Melting Snow
by SnapeWolf277
Summary: Taken from the events of Fire and Ice, branching off from the original series. Whitestorm and Fireheart grow closer and Whitestorm learns the secrets of Tigerclaw's mutiny. While Whitestorm tries to protect Fireheart, he must endure a new prophecy.
1. Whitestorm's Patrol, Brokenstar's War

"_Whitestorm!"_

The large white-furred tom swirled around from where he was standing, giving orders to the Apprentices. Bluestar was walking towards him quickly, her eyes burning in the soft moonlight. He had to blink the rainwater from his eyes as he ducked beneath the low hanging branch of a tree to greet her.

"Bluestar?"

His grey leader wasted no time. "I have a mission for you." Ordinarily Whitestorm, as any other cat, would have straightened up but the storm's rain made his thick pelt heavy. A crash of thunder boomed in his ears and Whitestorm had to strain them to hear her next words.

"Take a patrol of cats and head into ShadowClan territory," the she-cat ordered her nephew. "I want you to find and retrieve those kits."

ShadowClan had stolen a litter of kits from the nursery – Frostfur's litter. The whole Clan was in an uproar, and especially now that in the maelstrom of turmoil, their beloved Medicine Cat had been murdered in cold blood. Whitestorm had known the she-cat for countless seasons and she was always up for a conversation, so her death had shaken him as well.

_But there's no time for this!_

Shaking away his grief, Whitestorm nodded. "This storm will make the journey difficult," he said carefully, "But I will do my best. I will take Runningwind, Willowpelt, Darkstripe and Tiger-"

"No," Bluestar interrupted firmly, her blue eyes blazing. "Tigerclaw must stay in camp. I don't want any more thefts from our nursery this night."

"Very well," the tom agreed. Tigerclaw was a strong warrior. "I will take Mousefur then."  
>Bluestar flicked her tail in agreement and turned to look back towards the bushes. Whitestorm followed her gaze.<p>

With Spottedleaf dead they were without a Medicine Cat, and she had held no Apprentice. Without a healer, ThunderClan would be in trouble.

He understood what ailed the noble leader and craned his stiff neck to press his nose against her shoulder. There wasn't much he could do to comfort her, but he could offer something at least. "We will succeed, Bluestar. ShadowClan has wronged us – StarClan is on our side."

Bluestar gave a shake of her sleek grey fur and nodded slowly. "Gather your patrol. You set off now. And Whitestorm..." The tom stopped in midstride, looking back at his leader. "You may meet a friend on your mission."

A friend? Whitestorm blinked in confusion. Bluestar flicked her tail in dismissal and the white warrior raced off. As he headed to a gathering of warriors, Sandpaw rushed up to meet him.

"Whitestorm, where are you going?"

"On a mission," replied her mentor. _There's no time!_

Sandpaw's ears twitched. "Can I come?"

"No." Whitestorm said sternly. "I'm sorry Sandpaw but this is a Warrior's mission. There are no places for Apprentices. But you can do something for me," he added, seeing Sandpaw's dejected gaze. "Fetch Mousefur and Willowpelt for me. Tell them they're needed."

"Yes, Whitestorm!" Sandpaw nodded and headed for the Warrior's den.

Approaching the gathering of Warriors by the thorn barrier, Whitestorm recognised the dark tabby toms speaking in hushed voices with Tigerclaw. He called out to Darkstripe and Runningwind.

"Come here – both of you!"

They sent him startled glances. Darkstripe dipped his head to Tigerclaw and followed Runningwind to meet him.

A wave of unease flowed over Whitestorm. For some reason he had never truly trusted Darkstripe – or Tigerclaw. Though he publicly showed support, there seemed something odd about the two of them that sent his belly churning.

"You two are to come with me," he ordered in a no-nonsense tone. "Quickly now."

Moments later Mousefur padded out of the Warrior's den and Willowpelt shouldered her way out of the nursery. The silvery-white she-cat glanced at Whitestorm in confusion, but said nothing.

"You four are to come with me. Bluestar has given us a mission – find the kits and bring them home."

"In this weather?" Darkstripe scoffed in protest. "We won't be able to see our tails if they were right in front of our noses!"

"The scents will have been washed away," Willowpelt agreed. "How will we be able to find them if we cannot track them?"

Whitestorm forced himself to stay calm. "We will cross that path when we come to it. Now hurry!"

He could feel eyes burning onto his pelt as he led his patrol towards the bushes. Bluestar was watching him from atop the Highrock and Tigerclaw had paused to watch them leave, his amber eyes alight with anger.

"Stay close," Whitestorm called over the clap of thunder. "Darkstripe, Willowpelt, watch our backs."

Whitestorm's paws pricked with impatience. What had Bluestar meant when she'd told him that they might find a friend out here? Who would possibly be out in the marsh in this weather? Surely she hadn't sent any other cat out! _Speaking of cats, I haven't seen young Firepaw, Greypaw or Ravenpaw since we found Spottedleaf's body._

They travelled swiftly and in silence as they headed deeper into ShadowClan territory. They couldn't find the kits, sure enough, but Whitestorm knew they could find the camp. He hadn't been there before, however the scents of ShadowClan wreathed around him, growing stronger with each step despite the rain. If the kits were in ShadowClan's camp, they wouldn't need to scent the kits. They could just search the dens.

_Hopefully without being spotted._

Something caught his ear and the great white warrior halted, whirling around. Mousefur spun and spat at a ginger ball of flame that skidded into the narrow path behind them. Whitestorm immediately recognised it as Firepaw. Had he followed them?

"Firepaw," growled Whitestorm, "What are you doing here?"

His eyes were latched onto the fiery apprentice as he gasped for breath. "Bluestar sent me!" Firepaw responded. "She wanted me to find Yellowfang before-"

Suddenly he understood. "Ah!" He interrupted. "Bluestar told me I might find a friend out here. Now I understand what she meant." He gazed thoughtfully at Firepaw.

Firepaw looked anxious. "Is Tigerclaw nearby?"

Blinking the rain from his eyes, Whitestorm replied curiously, "Bluestar insisted she needed him to remain at camp, to protect the remaining kits."

Firepaw nodded quickly, relieved. Whitestorm caught the urgency in his voice as he added, "Whitestorm, I need your help. I can lead you to the kits. Greypaw is waiting for me. We plan to rescue them tonight. Can you come?"

Whitestorm's tail tip twitched in surprise. How had they found the kits? More importantly, he wondered why Bluestar had sent Firepaw out, deep into the heart of ShadowClan territory, when he was but an apprentice. With Yellowfang around, believed to have betrayed the Clan that had sheltered her, surely she would have ordered the apprentices to be kept safe...

_To find Yellowfang_, he reminded himself. However that doesn't explain how he found out about the kits.

"Of course we'll come," he said coolly, nodding to Runningwind and Mousefur.

"It will mean raiding the ShadowClan camp," warned Firepaw.

Runningwind's eyes glowed with excitement. "Can you lead us there?"

Firepaw shook his head. "No, but Yellowfang can." Whitestorm's ears perked and his eyes narrowed. "And she has promised to bring help from her old allies in the camp."

Whitestorm remained silent for a moment. Mousefur's hackles rose with anger and her tail thumped against his haunch. "You have found Yellowfang?" She hissed.

But Whitestorm was confused. "I don't understand," he meowed. "The traitor is going to help rescue the kits she stole?"

He was even more surprised when Firepaw calmed himself, then locked eyes with him. Whitestorm held his gaze steadily. "Yellowfang didn't take them," he meowed. "Nor did she murder Spottedleaf. She wants to help us rescue our kits."

_How can he be sure? But then again, how can we? We did not see Yellowfang commit the crimes that we accuse her of. For all we know she could have seen Spottedleaf die and the kits being stolen __and run off to try and get them back._ Whitestorm stared back at Firepaw. _Anger is making us rash. We are so eager to place blame that we have forgotten that truth. Now we are hunting a cat that could very well be innocent._

Or guilty. Whitestorm blinked slowly, inhaled a breath and ordered, "Lead the way."


	2. Entering the Danger Zone

Greypaw was waiting by an ash tree, pacing restlessly around it's rotten trunk. Whitestorm thrust himself through the mist, his heavy paws thumping against the ground. He was soaked, muddy and his white pelt was dragging down like sodden leaves.

Firepaw was at the senior warrior's side, staying close as Whitestorm had ordered him to. Greypaw looked up and stopped pacing as soon as he saw the white warrior appear, twitching his whiskers in greeting.

"Any sign of Yellowfang?" Asked Firepaw.

Greypaw shook his head. "Not yet."

Whitestorm searched the clearing for any shapes slinking through the mist, keeping one ear on the conversation.

"We don't know how far it is to the ShadowClan camp," Firepaw said, turning to watch the warriors. Hearing a twig snap and a shadow in the distance, Whitestorm stiffened, staring out into the mist. They were faint, but he could make out the shape of cats. "She may be on her way back right now."  
>Greypaw shifted. Whitestorm continued to watch the shadows. "Or she might be happily sharing tongues with her ShadowClan comrades while we sit here like fools waiting to be ambushed!"<p>

Whitestorm pried his eyes from the shadows. His ears flicked uneasily, tracing the sounds of the cats moving around them. "Firepaw?" He prompted uneasily. _ShadowClan approaches._

Firepaw gazed determinedly back up at him. "She will come back," he promised.

Whitestorm suddenly turned. At the same moment, Yellowfang stalked out from behind the ash tree and sat down. "Well said, young Firepaw. You're not the only one who can sneak up on someone." Whitestorm looked over her shoulder at a dark pelt, eyes narrowed warily. "Remember the day we met? You were looking in the wrong direction that time too."

Suddenly three other ShadowClan cats stalked out from behind the tree. They settled themselves calmly on the other side of Yellowfang. Whitestorm remained calm, but he could feel the ThunderClan cats around him bristle.

Whitestorm examined each of the four ShadowClan cats. There were some that he recognised from gatherings: Nightpelt and Ashfur, but the other he had not seen before. A she-cat.

There was an uncomfortable silence that stretched out between both Clans. Firepaw was pressed against Whitestorm, seeking warmth against his large pelt, but the apprentice was nervous and fidgeting. Whitestorm was looking at Yellowfang thoughtfully. He had many questions to ask, however he knew that the time was not right for them. They had to rescue the kits, as he had promised his aunt, Bluestar.

As he was about to speak, a grey, skinny tom meowed, "We have come to help you, not to harm you. You have come for your kits; we will help you rescue them."

Whitestorm listened carefully to his words, but was not convinced. The chaos that ravaged ShadowClan like a plague made it easy to suspect that the ragtag bunch of elders and queens would want something in return.

"What's in it for you?" He asked warily.

The grey tom sighed. "We want your help to get rid of Brokenstar. He has broken the warrior code. ShadowClan is suffering."

Runningwind tensed beside him. "So it's that simple is it? We just drop into your camp, snatch the kits, kill your leader and go home."

Whitestorm cast a look at the impulsive warrior, warning him to be careful, but the grey ShadowClan tom replied, "You will not meet as much resistance as you think."

Yellowfang stood up. "Let me introduce my old friends," she meowed, weaving her way around the ShadowClan cats. She brushed past the grey tom. "This is Ashfur; he is one of the Clan elders."  
>"And this is Nightpelt, a senior warrior before Raggedstar was killed." She circled a battered black tom, who nodded at them. Whitestorm returned the nod.<p>

"And this is one of our elder queens, Dawncloud. Two of her kits died driving out WindClan."

Suddenly Whitestorm felt easier around the cats. A sense of temporary trust was placed in the ShadowClan cats, hearing about Dawncloud's story. _A queen who has lost her kits is a cat to be feared. Her love for her lost is stronger than any bond between clan mates, and can drive her to things many would never dream. I believe that we can trust these cats._

Dawncloud, a small tabby, stared at her paws in grief at Yellowfang's words. "I do not wish to lose any more of my kits," she meowed. Her words were filled with such conviction that Whitestorm immediately knew that he was right.

Giving his chest a quick lick to smooth down his fur, Whitestorm curled his tail around his paws. "You are clearly skilled warriors if you managed to creep up on us like that. But are there enough of you? We need to know what we'll face when we raid the ShadowClan camp."

"The old and sick of ShadowClan are slowly starving," Ashfur admitted, his voice cracking with emotion. "The casualties among out kits are more than we can cope with. ShadowClan is slowly dying and it's not just painful for those who are being forced into StarClan untimely."

Whitestorm understood. _If ThunderClan was in this situation – StarClan forbid – I would be in agony just watching. No Clan deserves this._

"But if ShadowClan is a mess," Darkstripe blurted, "How come you have shown so much strength lately? And why is Brokenstar still your leader?"

"Brokenstar is surrounded by a group of elite warriors," Ashfur replied steadily. "They are the ones to fear, because they would die for him without question. The others obey his orders only because they are frightened. They will fight by his side as long as they think Brokenstar is going to win. If they thought he was going to lose..."

"They would fight against him, not for him," Darkstripe finished off the elder's words, voice laden with disgust. "What kind of loyalty is that?"

Whitestorm glared at the impulsive dark tabby. The ShadowClan cats' hackles rose.

"Our Clan was not always like this," Yellowfang interrupted smoothly. "When Raggedstar led ShadowClan, we were feared for our strength. But in those days our strength came from the warrior code and Clan loyalty, not from fear and bloodlust."

_When Raggedstar led ShadowClan..._ "How did Raggedstar die?" Whitestorm asked curiously. It had been announced at a gathering, but no mention of how was ever discovered. "There were many rumours at the Gatherings, but no cat seemed to know for sure."

Yellowfang's eyes clouded with sorrow. "He was ambushed by a warrior patrol from another Clan."  
>Hold on a minute, Whitestorm's claws pricked at the ground. <em>If another Clan killed Raggedstar, how come ShadowClan didn't retaliate? A war between two Clans would be rich gossip at any Gathering. Besides, Raggedstar was a great leader – they would surely want retribution for his death. We would have heard about it by now.<em>

It made no sense. "Yes, that is what most cats seemed to think," he said slowly. "These are bad times indeed, when leaders are picked off in the dark, instead of open and honourable battle."

Firepaw frowned, his mind racing over different battle plans. "Is there any way of taking the kits without alerting the whole Clan?"

Dawncloud answered him. "They are very closely guarded. Brokenstar will be expecting ThunderClan to try and take them. You won't be able to steal them in secret. Open attack is your only hope."

"Then we must concentrate out attack on Brokenstar and his inner guard," meowed Whitestorm.

Yellowfang had a suggestion. "The ShadowClan warriors could lead me int the camp. They could say they had captured me. We have to make sure Brokenstar and his warriors are out of their dens. News of my capture will bring them into the clearing. Once they're all out in the open, I'll give you the signal for you to attack."

Whitestorm was silent for a moment. _We are but a group of five warriors, two apprentices, a medicine cat with warrior training and three elders against... Elite warriors plus those who are afraid to disobey Brokenstar's command. We will most likely be outnumbered, and then there are the kits of ShadowClan who may get in the way. Whitestorm gazed at the ShadowClan cats sightlessly, deep in thought. I could be sending my clanmates to their deaths in this fight. It is a very bad match. But I suppose we will have to adapt, and face them bravely._

What he most feared was that he had two apprentices joining the battle as well. They were still so young. He could feel Firepaw shifting uncertainly against his side, waiting for the patrol leader's response. They were all waiting on him to make the decision. _StarClan, I know that ShadowClan has wronged you, and the other Clans in the forest. But I ask you now to judge them not for what Brokenstar has done, and to guide them back onto the correct path. Lend us all – ThunderClan and ShadowClan – the strength to win this fight, for our honour, our kits, and our lives._

With his prayer sent, Whitestorm's face grave, he nodded. He was committing his warriors to the attack.

"Very well, Yellowfang," he meowed. "Please lead the way to the ShadowClan camp."


	3. Calm Before the Storm

"Firepaw, Greypaw," Whitestorm rose to follow Yellowfang, "With me. Now. The rest of my patrol, follow on ahead."

Whitestorm shot Darkstripe a warning look as the dark tabby glanced scornfully at Firepaw. Clearly he still hadn't forgotten about the apprentice's kittypet roots – something he'd hoped would have been stamped out by now. Firepaw, like any apprentice, had made mistakes. However he had proved his loyalty to ThunderClan and Whitestorm didn't doubt him.

_Bluestar sent the apprentice out on his own, in the middle of a raging storm, to find Yellowfang. That says a lot about the trust she has placed in her apprentice._ Firepaw was Bluestar's apprentice. Such an honour was rare among apprentices, and Whitestorm knew that as a result, Firepaw had been well trained.

With Greypaw having been apprenticed to Lionheart, he also knew that the grey tom had good training on him. From watching them both he knew that they were both clever and strong. Lionheart had been a good friend of his – still was, even though they could not talk.

_Lionheart, please protect your apprentice._

"This battle will be tough," Whitestorm meowed to the apprentices. Firepaw was on one side while Greypaw was on the other. They both looked up to him as he glanced down to them, then stared straight ahead to follow his patrol. "You two are to stay by a warrior at all times. I'm half tempted to send you back to ThunderClan."

Greypaw looked stunned. "But why?" He demanded, eyes wide.

"Because you're young, not even warriors," Whitestorm replied grimly. "To fight in another Clan's battle... You shouldn't have to do that yet. I know these kits are ThunderClan and that drags us into the problem but Apprentices..." He shook his head.

"There are elders here as well," Firepaw said.

"And a Medicine Cat," Whitestorm finished. "All wiser, stronger and smarter than you at this point. I don't doubt that they could hold their own, despite their age and weakness... I guess it's too late for that. I want both of you to stay near me at all times during this battle. Don't even think about running off on your own."

"But Whitestorm-"

"No 'but's', Greypaw," growled the white warrior sternly. "You will do as you're told. Either you stay where I can see you or I'm sending you home."

Greypaw opened his mouth to protest but Firepaw hissed for him to be quiet. The ginger apprentice respected the white warrior enough to know not to push him. Firepaw had seen Whitestorm agitated and concerned and that was enough to send him packing. To see him angry was suicide to the tom.

"As far as Yellowfang is concerned, she is a friend and ally. I don't believe that she stole the kits, especially after everything that we have done for her recently. You have my word that I will protect her should she need it."

"Thank you, Whitestorm," Firepaw felt himself relax slightly. Then he paused, gazing up at the white warrior. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why are you doing this?"

Whitestorm's ear turned towards the apprentice. "Explain."

"Why are you telling us to stay close to you? Why do you care so much?" He asked. "I mean, aren't I just a kittypet?"

Whitestorm didn't even blink. "You were a kittypet. As far as I'm concerned, as soon as you accepted your role into the Clan as an apprentice, you gave up your old life and StarClan accepted you as ThunderClan. Any apprentice could have fed Yellowfang when you found her in the forest that day. The only fact is that the clan decided it prudent to blame your kittypet roots as a problem, because it is seen as flawed and problematic. Yes, a cat's past does affect their personality, but at the same time, there's no real way to tell what caused what and why. It's all speculation. You've shown me that you can get past the bullying."

Firepaw was stunned. He stared in shock as Whitestorm continued.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your roots, young Firepaw. Sometimes our past can make us stronger. But one must walk in another cat's paw steps to truly understand the burdens that they carry. It is not the cat who you see on the outside that matters, but the cat that you see within. Am I correct?"

Whitestorm stopped and eyed the ginger apprentice, who was dumbfounded. Sure, Firepaw had known Whitestorm to support him, but not this much! In fact, his words made a lot of sense. This wise cat must have seen his fair share of tragedies to be so open minded.

With newfound respect, Firepaw swallowed the lump in his throat and croaked, in a voice flooding with emotion, "Yes."

Whitestorm nodded and started walking again. "Now we must rescue those kits. Yellowfang's plan is sound but we must be ready for the unexpected. As I said, in the battle you must stay near me and call if you need any help. I'll have my eye on you both."

"We'll do our best," Greypaw vowed. "For ThunderClan!"

"For ThunderClan," echoed Firepaw.

Whitestorm smiled slightly. "Apprentices," he snorted. "You make it sound so fun."

"If only you had our energy, huh?" Greypaw teased.

Whitestorm rounded on the grey apprentice. "Are you calling me old?"

"Y- I- Eh, uh, um... _No!_ No." Greypaw stammered, flattening himself to the ground.

Whitestorm sniffed. Reaching down, he gave the apprentice a hearty nudge and purred, "Get a move on." He straightened up and sped up slightly, trotting around the trees after the patrol. "You two are lucky that your mentors are such close friends of mine. Otherwise I would have cuffed you both around the ear."

Firepaw blinked. "What have I done?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you pulling faces at me and making gestures, Firepaw," Whitestorm meowed in mock anger. His thick tail thumped the flame-pelted cat across the rump well naturedly, causing Firepaw to stagger slightly. "Now let's go."


	4. Breaking Shadows

There was a damp chill in the air as they approached a small hollow. It was surrounded by thick undergrowth that symbolised the entrance to the ShadowClan camp. It was a tangled mass of brambles that seemed much different to the neat, rounded gorse tunnel back in ThunderClan's camp. Whitestorm wondered how he was going to squeeze through to the camp.

The camp boundary was pockmarked with holes, cracks and gaps, and the camp reeked of rotting meat. Whitestorm recoiled at the scent and clenched his jaws tight.

"You eat _crow food_?" Greypaw's lip curled.

Ashfur sat down by a set of toadstools, gazing down into the tunnel. "Our warriors are used for attacking, not hunting. We eat whatever we can find."

"ThunderClan, hide in that clump of bracken over there." Yellowfang hissed. "The toadstools will hide your scent. Wait here until you hear me call."

She stepped back into a formation that seemed more convincing – the ShadowClan cats flanking her as they would a prisoner, before they all stalked into the tunnel. They headed silently down into the camp.

The ThunderClan cats settled themselves by the bracken. Darkstripe hissed quietly, impatient to get his claws on the ShadowClan cats who had stolen Frostfur's kits. Whitestorm was crouched in the middle of the group, his pelt sticking out like the moon in a cloudless sky, murmuring battle tactics to his waiting team mates.

"...If you aim for their head, you can stun them enough to give them a bite that will send them running..."

Firepaw looked at Greypaw, who was pressed against Mousefur. His thick grey fur on the back of his neck was standing on end and he was panting with suppressed excitement.

Whitestorm flicked a tufted ear and then bunched his powerful muscles, eyes narrowing. Suddenly yowling erupted from the ShadowClan camp. Without hesitating, the ThunderClan patrol exploded from the bracken and raced through the entrance.

Yellowfang, Ashfur, Dawncloud and Nightpelt were furiously grappling with six vicious looking warriors. Firepaw recognised Brokenstar and his deputy, Blackfoot, among them. The warriors looked hungry and battle-scarred but Firepaw could see the hard muscles pounding beneath their patchy fur.

Around the edge of the clearing, groups of scrawny cats stared uncertainly at the mayhem. Their skinny bodies seemed to recoil at the violence, while their dull eyes looked on, shocked and confused.

Releasing his war cry, Whitestorm rallied the ThunderClan cats to him and leaped into the battle.

"Do not falter, ThunderClan!"

Whitestorm raced over to where Blackfoot was running at Yellowfang and ploughed into him, sending the deputy sprawling over the ground with the wind knocked out of him. As Whitestorm brought down his paw on Blackfoot's shoulder, he saw Runningnose, the ShadowClan Medicine Cat, back away and hide beneath a bush.

Blackfoot spat at Whitestorm as Firepaw grasped a silver tabby with his claws nearby. Whitestorm blocked one of the white cat's black paws and bared his teeth in a snarl, feigning a charge before he leapt around the tom. They danced around each other, exchanging blows, and although Blackfoot was not as large or broad as Whitestorm, he was definitely faster.

The white ThunderClan warrior hissed as a ShadowClan 'apprentice' leapt towards him, aiming to grip his back. He shook the kit-aged tom away and sent him packing back to the den by thumping a sheathed claw against the ground inches from his body.

"There is no place in this fight for a kit! Get away!"

Blackfoot chose this opportunity to slice a gash in Whitestorm's leg. The senior warrior snapped his teeth at Blackfoot, catching his paw and yanking him off his paws. With a startled howl, Blackfoot tumbled onto the ground, and Whitestorm sunk his teeth into the deputy's shoulder, blocking his sharp jaws with a paw on his throat.

"Firepaw!" Whitestorm heard Dawncloud shout urgently, "Watch out! Clawface is behind you!"

Whitestorm felt anger surge through his body. He chomped down as hard as he could, feeling his teeth scrape bone, and Blackfoot screeched. Whitestorm released the ShadowClan deputy and watched him streak away and through the thorn barrier, defeated.

As he whirled around, Whitestorm saw Firepaw furiously battling the warrior. Suddenly Brokenstar was upon the ThunderClan warrior, sinking his teeth into the back of his neck, trying to snap his neck. Whitestorm screeched, lashing out and rearing back, crushing Brokenstar against the ground. The mighty ShadowClan tyrant was forced to release his grip to breathe and Whitestorm rolled over and away from the dark brown tabby.

"_Brokenstar!"_ Whitestorm hissed, his eyes ablaze with anger.

The long haired tom reared back and slashed at Whitestorm's face. Blood pooled out from the cut above his eye, staining his white fur crimson. They battled fiercely for a few moments, both sustaining heavy and nasty injuries. Brokenstar had him pinned and was about to tear out his throat.

Greypaw cannoned into Brokenstar from behind and bounced away as another ShadowClan warrior tried to wrestle him to the ground. The impact knocked the tabby loose and Whitestorm kicked up with his hind paws, clawing at the tom's soft underbelly and sending him flying across the clearing.

Yellowfang shot towards them. "I'll take him!" She shouted, "Whitestorm, you help Firepaw!"

Whitestorm stumbled to his paws and stiffened. The apprentice had Clawface pinned. His head was raised, jaws parting and eyes blistering with rage. He was preparing for the Killing Bite.

_No!_

Moving as fast as he could on injured legs, the senior warrior rammed Firepaw. The ginger tom crashed awkwardly into the ground and Whitestorm dug his claws into Clawface's shoulders and haunches, holding him down with ease.  
>"Thunderclan warriors do not kill unless they have to," he growled into Firepaw's ear. "We just need to let them know not to show their faces here again!"<p>

Rearing back his head, he crunched into Clawface's shoulder at the base of his neck. Clawface shrieked and writhed. Whitestorm held him down for a few moments longer, and then let him free. The murderer of Spottedleaf was sent screaming out of the camp.

Firepaw was still raging – even more so that his chance at avenging Spottedleaf's killer had been taken from him – and looked around for more enemies to fight. However Brokenstar's warriors had fled.

They both spun around, hearing a splintering screech from behind Greypaw. The tom leapt out of the way to reveal Yellowfang tussling with Brokenstar, holding him down with bloody paws.

Brokenstar was bleeding profusely from several wounds. His ears were flattened against his head and his whiskers were drawn back as he crouched, flattened by Yellowfang's powerful grasp.

"I never thought you would be harder to kill than my father!" He snarled up at her.

Yellowfang recoiled as if she had been stung by a bee, her face twisted suddenly by shock and grief. She loosened her grip on Brokenstar, and instantly he threw her aside with a twist of his powerful body.

"You killed Raggedstar?" Yellowfang wailed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Whitestorm dug his claws into the ground. _So the truth is revealed at last. I knew something was wrong with the story he gave._

Brokenstar eyed the medicine cat coldly. "You found his body. Didn't you recognise my fur between his claws?" Yellowfang stared in horror as he continued. "He was a soft and foolish leader. He deserved to die."

"No!" hissed Yellowfang, her head dropping. Then she gave herself a shake. She looked up at Brokenstar, arching her back. "And Brightflower's kits? Did they deserve to die too?" She rasped.

Brokenstar growled, hurled himself at Yellowfang and pinned her down. Whitestorm looked on, stunned.

"Those kits were weak," Brokenstar hissed, bending his face towards Yellowfang's ear. "They would have been no use to ShadowClan. If I hadn't killed them, some other warrior would have."

So he's a thief, a murderer, a kit killer and a fox heart, Whitestorm growled, seething. _He has completely disregarded the warrior code. This Clan is worse off than I thought!_

A wail from a ShadowClan queen jolted him out of his thoughts. Before he could register what had happened, Firepaw was coming down on Brokenstar, saving Yellowfang from the killing bite. The two wrestled briefly before they broke apart, with Firepaw flinging him across the clearing, away from Yellowfang. Brokenstar lunged at Firepaw, but Whitestorm shoved him away. Brokenstar seemed fixed on Firepaw.

"Don't waste your time, apprentice!" Brokenstar spat viciously. "I've shared dreams with StarClan You will have to kill me nine times over before I join them. Do you really think you're strong enough for that?"

Whitestorm saw Firepaw hesitate, as though he hadn't thought of that before. The white-furred ThunderClan warrior trotted forward, his legs trembling slightly, and barred the apprentice off from the ShadowClan leader.

"Lay one claw on him, Brokenstar, and you'll regret it!"

The ShadowClan tom's spine bristled and he charged at Whitestorm, sending them back rolling over and over in the dust in a frenzy of fur and claws. Firepaw heard the sound of flesh tearing, pained hisses and crouched low to the ground as the two battled. Instinct was telling him to help the tom, but how could he possibly expect to defeat a Clan leader!

With a gash in his leg, bites in his shoulders, a clawed underbelly and scratches dappling his body, Whitestorm was weakening. It felt like he was running on adrenaline – but at the same time, he could see exhaustion and pain reflecting in Brokenstar's eyes.

"I call your bluff, Brokenstar!" Deftly he rolled away from the tom and crouched low to the ground. "Your Clan has been ravaged by disease and war. It's impossible for you to have kept all nine lives intact! How many lives do you _really_ have left, I wonder?"

A flicker of uncertainty flashed over the brown tabby's face. Firepaw rushed up, flanked by Yellowfang and Dawncloud. The rest of the ShadowClan cats and ThunderClan cats, ignoring their differences, started to pad slowly towards the battle scarred tom, eyes gleaming with menace.

Brokenstar seemed to realise that he was hopelessly outnumbered, with over nine cats against him, and showed this by a subconscious flick of his tail. He crouched and backed away through the bushes. His eyes glittered menacingly from the shadows, his gaze finding Firepaw through the shadows.

"This isn't over, _apprentice_," he hissed before he turned and vanished after his broken warriors.

Firepaw looked to Whitestorm, who lay on the ground, panting heavily. "Should we go after them?"

Whitestorm shook his head. "I think that they got the message that they are not welcome here."

Nightpelt, the ShadowClan warrior, nodded in agreement. "Leave them. If they dare to show their faces here again, ShadowClan will be strong enough by then to tackle them alone."

The rest of ShadowClan was huddled together in the ruins of their camp, as if numbed by the realisation that their leader had gone.

_This Clan has been broken by Brokenstar. How fitting that the name should reflect the madness..._

"The kits!"

Whitestorm's ears perked, hearing Greypaw's meow from the far corner of the clearing. He watched as Firepaw raced over to his friend, then followed, his body brushing against Mousefur.

As they approached, they could hear the pitiful mewling of kits coming from beneath a pile of leaves and twigs. Quickly Greypaw and Mousefur dug down through the fliage until they had uncovered the missing ThunderClan kits at the bottom of a small pit.

Whitestorm peered into the den, swaying on his paws. "Are they okay?" He demanded, tail twitching with anxiety.  
>"They're fine," replied Greypaw, climbing into the pit. "Most have only a few scratches. But that little tabby has a pretty nasty wound on his ear. Can you take a look, Yellowfang?"<p>

The old she-cat was licking her own wounds, but at Greypaw's call she raced to the side of the pit, where Greypaw had carefully deposited the tabby kit.

Whitestorm stayed back as Firepaw helped Greypaw to lift the kits out of the pit. The last kit was grey, like the embers of an old fire. She mewled and squirmed as Firepaw placed her on the ground, shivering with the cold and with shock. Mousefur gathered all of the kits to her and comforted them with licks and caresses.

Yellowfang looked closely at the torn ear. "We need to stop his bleeding," she meowed.

Runningnose stepped out of the shadows. His forepaw was coated in a layer of cobwebs, which he silently passed to Yellowfang. She nodded her thanks and began to treat the kit's wound.

Nightpelt approached the group of ThunderClan cats. "You helped ShadowClan rid itself of a brutal and dangerous leader, and we are grateful. But it is time you left our camp and returned to your own. I promise your hunting grounds will be free of ShadowClan warriors as long as we can find enough food in our own territory."

Whitestorm, exhausted and weak from the battle, nodded. "Hunt in peace for one moon, Nightpelt. ThunderClan knows that you need time to rebuild your Clan." He turned to Yellowfang. "And you, Yellowfang?" He probed. "Do you wish to return with us, or stay here with your old comrades?"

Secretly he was hoping that she would return with them. Although her reception might not be received well at first, ThunderClan couldn't deny that they desperately needed a medicine cat. Now that Spottedleaf was dead and they had no healer or prophet, they were vulnerable.

Yellowfang looked up at him, scanning his eyes, and saw understanding. "I will make the journey back with you." She glanced at a deep gash on Whitestorm's hing leg. "You will need a medicine cat, for yourself as well as your kits."

Relief washed over Whitestorm like a tide. He suddenly felt very sleepy, but smiled. "Thank you," purred Whitestorm. He signalled to the ThunderClan cats with a heavy sweep of his tail and led them out of the clearing. Mousefur and Willowpelt helped the kits, who stumbled along, exhausted and bewildered. Yellowfang walked close to the wounded tabby kit, lifting him up by the scruff every time he slipped. Firepaw and Greypaw flanked Whitestorm, nudging the massive tom forward whenever he stumbled or needed to pause to gather his strength.

The moon was still rising in the quiet sky as the ThunderClan party began the long trudge home, while around them showers of brown leaves fluttered to the forest floor.


	5. Whitestorm collapses!

Frostfur was lying in the middle of the clearing, her head resting sadly on her paws. Firepaw and Greypaw, relieved at being home at last, sprinted ahead of the returning patrol and burst into the clearing, their wounds ignored. They couldn't even feel the pain.

Whitestorm was dragging his paws through the gorse tunnel. Yellowfang was keeping him upright, pushing her smaller frame against the tom who seemed almost three times as big as she was. He heard a delighted cry from Frostfur as the kits crept into the camp beside Darkstripe and Mousefur.

The kits rushed over to Frostfur and nuzzled into her side. The queen curled her soft body around them and licked them all in turn, purring loudly.

Whitestorm broke off from Yellowfang, who hung back at the entrance to the camp, looking on silently. Bluestar strode up to the returning patrol.

She glanced fondly at Frostfur and her kits, then turned her eyes to her mud-caked nephew, Whitestorm. "Are they all right?" She asked.

Hidden beneath the mud from the ShadowClan marsh, his wounds burned. Whitestorm, breathing heavily, meowed, "They're fine."

"Well done, Whitestorm. ThunderClan honours you."

Whitestorm bent his head to accept her praise, and added, "But it was thanks to this apprentice that we found them."

He saw Firepaw lift his head and tail with pride. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tigerclaw's accusing snarl burst from across the clearing.

"Why did you bring back the _traitor_?" The dark warrior stalked up to the patrol and stood dutifully beside Bluestar.

"She is _no_ traitor," Firepaw insisted. Whitestorm would have spoken but he felt light headed. The blood he'd lost and the injuries he'd sustained in the battle were making him feel faint. He glanced around the camp, seeing that the rest of the cats had gathered to see the its and congratulate the hunting party. Some of them had spotted Yellowfang and were eyeing her with looks of pure hatred.

Unsteady on his paws, Whitestorm padded over and shielded her from the glares of the other cats.

"She killed Spottedleaf," spat Longtail.

"Look between Spottedleaf's claws," Greypaw suggested. "You will find the brown fur of Clawface not Yellowfang's grey fur!"

Whitestorm sat down as Bluestar nodded at Mousefur. The she-cat darted away from the crowd towards the spot where Spottedleaf's body lay, waiting for its dawn burial. The Clan waited in tense silence for her return.

"Greypaw is right," Mousefur panted, rushing back to the clearing. "Spottedleaf was not attacked by a grey cat."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.

"Byt that doesn't mean that she didn't help to take the kits!" Hissed Tigerclaw. His claws sheathed and unsheathed into the ground.

"Without Yellowfang we would never have recovered the kits!" Spat Firepaw, his exhaustion making him impatient. "She knew that a ShadowClan warrior had taken them. She was hunting for them when I found her. She risked her life returning to the ShadowClan camp. It was Yellowfang who thought up the battle plan that got us into the ShadowClan camp and gave us the chance to defeat Brokenstar!"

The cats listened to Firepaw's words, astonished.

"Firepaw is right," Whitestorm meowed. "Yellowfang is a friend."

"I'm glad to hear it," murmured Bluestar, catching Firepaw's eye.

Frostfur's anxious mew sounded from the crowd. "Is Brokenstar dead?" She asked.

"No, he escaped," Whitestorm told her. "But he will never lead ShadowClan again."

Frostfur sighed in relief and returned to nuzzling her kits.

Whitestorm, panting, looked at Bluestar. "I promised ShadowClan we would leave them in peace until next full moon," he explained. "Brokenstar's leadership has left their Clan in chaos."

Bluestar nodded. "That was a wise and generous offer," she meowed approvingly. "The ThunderClan leader walked past Whitestorm and the rest of the patrol and approached Yellowfang. Yellowfang lowered her eyes as Bluestar touched the grey cat's rough coat with her nose.

"Yellowfang, I wish you to replace Spottedleaf as medicine cat to ThunderClan," Bluestar meowed. "I'm sure you'll find all her supplies as she left them."

The other cats began to murmur to each other, tails flicking with excitement. Whitestorm felt a set of bright green eyes land on him as his mind began to drift, and he swayed slightly.

"Whitestorm?" Firepaw hissed quietly.

Yellowfang looked around at them anxiously and said nothing.

Frostfur glanced at the other queens before she met Yellowfang's gaze and slowly nodded her approval.

Yellowfang bent her head respectfully to the white cat before addressing her new leader. "Thank you, Bluestar. ShadowClan is not the Clan I once knew. ThunderClan is my Clan now."

_Oh, we have a new medicine cat!_ Blood loss was making Whitestorm feel inexplicably giddy. He was afraid that he would start giggling uncontrollably as a paw prodded his side and a tiny wisp of flame settled beside him.

"Whitestorm?" Firepaw repeated in a hushed voice. "Whitestorm, are you okay?"

The bleeding in his wounds had stopped, but suddenly it felt as though he wouldn't be able to stay upright. Whatever was said about Ravenpaw he missed, as he stood up and tried to steady himself. He grunted as he stumbled slightly. Bluestar whirled around and Yellowfang leapt to her paws as Whitestorm staggered a few paces across the clearing. The warrior's eyes rolled back in his head as he crashed down on top of a giant heap of tabby fur, squashing Tigerclaw to the ground. The tabby tom let out an indignant howl, muffled by dust and mud coated fur.

Cats crowded around the once white tom, releasing shocked howls. Yellowfang and Bluestar shouldered their way to the front to where Whitestorm lay, draped over Tigerclaw's head and shoulders like a dripping pile of moss.

The white warrior lay unmoving.


	6. Prophecy of Fire

Whitestorm awoke in ThunderClan territory, his eyes blinking in the sunlight that dappled the leaves on the ground. For a moment he felt confused, and then realised that he wasn't in ThunderClan, but StarClan. Wide eyes stared around the small clearing, surrounded by oak trees, with warm sunlight filtering through the branches.

A few paces in front of him, as still as a statue, was a she-cat.

"Snowfur," he breathed. Snowfur was Bluestar's sister, and Whitestorm's mother. "Am I dead then?"

Snowfur smiled slightly, then shook her head. "No," she replied. "But you were hurt pretty badly. Oh, Whitestorm, you really should be more careful."

Somehow the concern from his mother hurt him more than the bite wounds that Brokenstar had inflicted upon him. "I had to protect Firepaw, mother," he meowed gently, sitting down on the ground.

Snowfur nodded in understanding. "But he is not your son to protect," she reminded. "He is a kittypet, not clanborn."

Whitestorm felt annoyance churn in his belly. "It makes no difference whether or not he was born within the forest," he growled. "What matters is where his heart lies – with ThunderClan. That makes him my responsibility."

"Won't you just admit it, my son?" Snowfur got up and paced the clearing. "Because you have seen him suffer at the paws of your Clan mates, you think that you should stand up for him."

"He can stand on his own four paws," Whitestorm's amber eyes followed the silvery she-cat closely. "However he's just young, without parents. I don't want the other Clan cats to think badly of him for it."

Snowfur glanced up at him. "So you're sticking up for him."

Whitestorm paused, and then sighed. "I guess I am, mother. But what would you have me do? He's just an apprentice."

"And you have your own duties to take care of." Snowfur murmured. "Like Firepaw, your heart is soft. You care too much for every cat around you that you think needs protecting, Whitestorm."

Whitestorm stood up, stretching his limbs. "The warrior code says that we should show compassion," he pointed out.

"Yes, but there is something called showing too much compassion." Snowfur's blue eyes narrowed. "Your ability to speak from the heart makes you a noble warrior, my kit. But that is also your greatest weakness."

At first Whitestorm had been pleased to see his mother, but now a sense of anger settled in his heart. Disbelief that his mother could judge someone based on their blood, and anger at himself for proving her right.

"Are you saying I'm soft?" He growled.

Snowfur paused and stared at him, then sighed and sat down. "No." She meowed. "I'm just telling you to be careful. Don't get too close, Whitestorm."

"Why?" Snowfur paused. Whitestorm's eyes narrowed, and a sudden chill entered the wind.

Then she spoke. "Fire alone can save our Clan." Murmured Snowfur. "He has a destiny that does not include you, and if you interfere in that, you could wind up hurt."

Whitestorm's fur bristled with anger. He leapt to his paws, amber eyes burning with anger. "I could end up hurt?" He spat, "Snowfur, if you recall, the warrior code states that the safety of the clan comes before any single member!" He saw Snowfur's startled expression, but continued, "As a senior warrior of ThunderClan and as Bluestar's nephew, it's my duty to prepare Firepaw for Clan life! He's your sister's apprentice, Snowfur! What would happen if Firepaw died?"

Snowfur tensed. "StarClan is watching over him. That would not happen."

"Won't it?" Whitestorm's tail thumped the ground. "StarClan is powerful and can do many things, but there are some things in which even you cannot interfere, Snowfur! I will continue to watch over Firepaw, and I will be there for him when he needs it. If you want him to be so safe, you should be approving of my relationship with him, not being against it."

"Whitestorm-"

"No," growled the tom, "It's not your place to try and save me. Every cat dies, Snowfur, it's just a choice of when, where and how."

Snowfur stared at him in disbelief and horror as he whirled around. He whirled around and ran, letting his paws carry him over the soft forest floor, until he faded into darkness.


	7. The Raven's Flight

When he snapped back into consciousness, he was lying on his side in a nest. The scent of herbs drifted around him, and though his muscles ached, he felt strangely refreshed. It was as though he'd been running under a hot moon of sunlight and just jumped into a cool stream.

Something shuffled nearby and he heard the sound of Yellowfang mumbling to herself as she went about reorganising the herbs in her storage den.

"...Chamomile, Lavender, Feverfew and Marigold..."

Whitestorm blinked open an eye and lifted his head. His side was wrapped up tightly in cobwebs and his leg was draped in a poultice of Horsetail. The dream with Snowfur came flooding back to him and he sighed, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt.

_Great. I argued with my own mother._

Usually he wouldn't have been so agitated, but her words had grated on his already fragile nerves. The battle had almost cost him his life and he'd taken it out on his mother. _I'm sorry, Snowfur. I didn't mean to upset you._

Taking a deep breath, he moved to get up.

"Oh no you don't," a voice growled. Whitestorm froze, then rolled back onto his side. Bluestar was staring down at him with disapproval in her eyes, bordering on anger. "You're staying right where you are."

_Does she know about my argument with Snowfur?_

Bluestar gently pressed him back down to lie on his side, then circled him to sit in front of him. Whitestorm stared at her tiredly, his tail tip thumping against the ground.

"I couldn't believe what I saw when all the mud was washed off of your fur!" She went on, eyes narrowed and tail fitting on the ground in agitation. "You're covered in scratches and bites! What did you do to yourself, Whitestorm? Jump into a trench of dogs?"

Whitestorm sighed. "Something like that," he murmured. Then he realised that his pelt, though stained with patches of brown, was mostly clean. The skin around his wounds itched like crazy. "Did some cat put fleas beneath the cobwebs?"

A small flicker of amusement toying with the corner of her mouth betrayed Bluestar's annoyance. "You reckless old fool," she hissed, shaking her head. "You should have asked for Yellowfang to look at your wounds! You scared the Clan to death, collapsing in the middle of the clearing like that!"

"I didn't want to worry you," Whitestorm muttered inaudibly.

"_What?"_

"Nothing, Bluestar," he murmured. "How is the Clan?"

Bluestar straightened up, puffing out her chest. "Firepaw and Greypaw have been given a few days of rest for their injuries. Frostfur is reunited with her kits and Brackenkit – the tabby who got the scratch behind his ear – is doing fine. They're all recovering from the ordeal."

"I see," Whitestorm murmured, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the nest of moss.

"The Clan is also mourning the loss of Ravenpaw." Bluestar concluded.

Whitestorm's eyes snapped open again. "Excuse me?"

Bluestar paused. "I said the Clan is mourning Ravenpaw."

Whitestorm struggled to roll onto his side. "What do you mean, 'mourning Ravenpaw'? What happened?"

Bluestar looked taken aback. "Ravenpaw was killed by ShadowClan patrol during the kit-hunt yesterday," she meowed. "Isn't that correct?"

Whitestorm stared at her, perplexed. He hadn't seen Ravenpaw at all since Frostfur had spat at him before they had left for ShadowClan territory. He was sure he could remember everything that had happened and his head was relatively clear, aside from his guilt from shouting at Snowfur in the dream.

Bluestar leaned close. "Whitestorm, are you okay?"

Whitestorm blinked to clear his mind and then lay down. "Yes. Fine." He meowed. "I'm just a bit tired, Bluestar."

"I'll leave you to get some rest then," the blue-grey she-cat meowed. She stood up and turned to leave.

"Bluestar," Whitestorm added quickly. He opened one eye and lifted his head. "Can you send in Firepaw and Greypaw, please?"

Bluestar glanced back at him, hesitated, then nodded.

Whitestorm didn't have to wait long for the two apprentices to poke their heads into the den. The white warrior lay on his side, his flanks rising and falling with each breath. Firepaw tip-toed into the medicine cat's den and approached him. Greypaw followed hesitantly.

"...Whitestorm?"

The senior warrior opened his eyes again and rolled over, grunting. "So what's this I hear about Ravenpaw?"

Firepaw visibly looked nervous. He glanced at Greypaw. "Ravenpaw..."

"Ravenpaw was killed by a ShadowClan patrol," Greypaw meowed.

Whitestorm looked steadily at the two of them. Somehow he felt they were lying to him, but he couldn't be sure. "Ravenpaw was a close friend of yours, wasn't he? You don't seem to be grieving, nor did you tell me about any of this last night."

"We... Didn't think it was necessary," Firepaw meowed, looking rather crestfallen. "With the battle coming up, and the kits..."

Whitestorm sighed. "Next time we suffer a casualty, I expect you to tell me. I had to hear it from Bluestar and now I bet she thinks my mind was left in the marshlands."

Firepaw bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. "Well you were hurt pretty badly. She can't blame you."

"Yeah," Greypaw nodded. They knew Whitestorm would be surprised if they had to learn that Ravenpaw was alive and well at Barley's farm, but they had promised the ebony tom that they would keep him safe. They trusted Whitestorm but couldn't risk the truth reaching Tigerclaw's ears.

Whitestorm stared ahead of himself, deep in thought. He'd had a question to ask ever since he'd seen Firepaw sitting atop the fence many moons ago, and also when he'd seen him hunting the blackbird. He'd never got around to asking it.

"Firepaw," Whitestorm meowed, "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Firepaw's tapered ears twitched and he leaned forward. "What is it, Whitestorm?"

Whitestorm paused, thinking of how to ask. As his mouth opened, the ferns behind him rustled, and Yellowfang prowled out from her den.

"I leave for a while to reorganise my herb store. Next thing I know my patient is being pestered by a bunch of apprentices!" Hissed Yellowfang, shaking her head in disbelief. "Out! Both of you!"

Whitestorm watched as the flat-faced grey she-cat chased the two apprentices out of the den. He made to get up and chase after them. Yellowfang rounded on him.

"Don't even think about it!" She warned, "Or I'll put poppy seeds in your prey."

Whitestorm stared at her with wide eyes for a moment, surprised. Would the medicine cat dare to drug her patient? The she-cat's golden stare did not leave him as he hesitated, then settled back in his nest with a sigh.

"Alright, I'll stay put," mumbled the senior warrior.

Yellowfang relaxed. "Good." Giving him her rusty purr, she crouched beside him and started planting rhythmic licks along his flank. "Now you just relax and get some more sleep, Whitestorm. I don't want you moving at all. Do you want some poppy seeds to help you?"

"No," murmured the tom, closing his eyes obediently. "I want to be alert for if I'm needed."

Yellowfang nod in understanding. She continued to wash Whitestorm's pelt until he fell asleep, and then she walked out to check on Frostfur's kits, all the while thinking about how lucky she was to have a Clan that needed her again.

Hopefully this one wouldn't turn its back on her like ShadowClan.


	8. White, Blue and Yellow

A few dawns later, on the night of the gathering, Whitestorm was strong enough to leave the medicine cat's den. He muttered something under his breath as he stretched his aching bones. After lying down for what felt like a moon, he'd become stiff.

As he crossed the clearing the sun warmed his paws. The large white tom could see that apprentices were gathered by the tree stump, excited about something. A few of the elders, warriors and queens were around them, plus Bluestar, whose eyes were wide with interest.

Upon seeing her mentor, Sandpaw rushed over, smiling with delight. "Whitestorm!"

Whitestorm nodded to his apprentice. "Sandpaw."

"Come quickly," she nudged him toward the small gathering of cats.

Whitestorm limped over carefully, ears pricked forward. He could make out the shape of Firepaw and Greypaw, both standing in the middle of the circle of cats, meowing with energy giving him a spring in his step. As he drew closer, he realised that they were recounting the tale of the battle. Whitestorm settled in beside Bluestar and Sandpaw, eyes half mast.

"Whitestorm shouted out his battle cry: 'Do not falter, ThunderClan!'" Greypaw gave a weak imitation of the large snow-pelted warrior, eliciting a few amused purrs from the crowd. "Then he charged straight for Blackfoot – I don't mean ran, I mean _charged! _He ploughed into Blackfoot and sent him packing like he was a stick in the wind! I swear, I heard Blackfoot squeal like a kit!"

"And then," Firepaw continued, "After he'd chased off Blackfoot, he fought Brokenstar! Yellowfang told him that she would take him for a while, so he came over and we drove off Clawface."

"Yeah!" Greypaw grinned. He went on to describe the exchange between Yellowfang, and then Firepaw.

"I threw him away from Yellowfang, and all I could think about was finding the kits. But then Brokenstar meowed, 'are you sure you can take on a leader with nine lives?'"

Greypaw unsheathed his claws and sheathed them again. "It was a ruse. He was trying to intimidate us, but we just thought: 'well, we're ThunderClan! We won't back down!'"

Firepaw nodded. "Brokenstar came at me. We rolled around on the ground, clawing and hissing and spitting. He managed to pin me down and he was going to finish me off!"

A chorus of 'oooh's' and 'Oh!''s erupted from the crowd at that.

Dustpaw called, "What did you do? Did you kick him off and threaten to feed him kittypet slop?"

There was a short, well natured laughter. Firepaw felt the heat rose on his cheeks.

"Whack him with a stiff rabbit? Yeah, I bet that would've worked!"

Bluestar purred with amusement. "Well, Firepaw? Don't keep us waiting! What happened next?"

"I'll tell you what happened!" Greypaw danced on his front paws and then turned to Firepaw. "Firepaw flung him off, half way across the clearing! Brokenstar landed on the ground, turned and then he jumped-" Greypaw sprung towards the crowd, causing a few cats at the front to recoil. "-straight at Firepaw!"

"He would have got me, too," Firepaw nodded.

"But then he was shoved away!" Greypaw danced around Firepaw. "Brokenstar wasn't giving up, though!"

"Typical ShadowClan," howled Speckletail, a ThunderClan tabby queen.

"Brokenstar said: 'Don't waste your time, a-ppren-_tice',_" continued Firepaw tauntingly, mocking Brokenstar's voice surprisingly well. "'I've shared dreams with StarClan. You'll have to kill me nine times over before I join them. Do you really think you're strong enough for that?"

"Yeah," Greypaw grinned. "And we were like, 'Psh, we can take you on. You're just a fur ball with an ego!'"

"I bet he was scared," Willowpelt – Greypaw's mother – purred.

"He was!" Firepaw laughed. "He looked like he was about to curl up in the corner and start crying!"

Bluestar rolled her eyes humorously. "Apprentices..."

"Who shoved him?" Called Dustpaw.

"I'll tell you!" Greypaw jumped to his feet. "Firepaw's rescuer shoved Brokenstar back and blocked him off from the attack. Brokenstar stared at him with fear, because just a little while earlier, he'd fought the very same warrior! Anyway, he barred Firepaw away and meowed-"

"Lay one claw on him, Brokenstar, and you'll regret it!"

The crowd all jumped and turned to watch Whitestorm, who heaved himself up into a sitting position beside Bluestar, tail curled around his paws.

Greypaw and Firepaw looked surprised.

"Wh- When did you get out here?" Spluttered Firepaw.

"All this training and you youngsters _still_ don't notice me coming," Whitestorm shook his head in mock frustration. "But please, continue your story."

"Please do," Bluestar nodded. "With all this excitement I just might burst!"

A purr rippled through the crowd and the gathered cats grew silent, waiting for the rest of the story.

"'Lay one claw on him, Brokenstar, and you'll regret it!' Whitestorm shouted. Suddenly Brokenstar ran at him. They wrestled furiously on the ground, clawing and biting at each other. Blood was spraying onto the rocks! Fur was- Was _flying_!" Greypaw exclaimed. "It was like watching a LionClan Warrior fighting a mangy mutt from twoleg place!"

"You're forgetting the part where I called his bluff," Whitestorm pointed out coolly. Eyes scanning over the crowd, he drew in a breath and continued. "Brokenstar and I broke apart, both panting and exhausted. We'd fought long and hard. Both of us were bleeding from so many wounds, it felt like I'd filled up the entire river by Sunningrocks!"

"Tell us, did you drive him from the camp with his tail between his legs?" Called Sandpaw. Whitestorm's amber eyes rested on the pale she-cat and he chuckled. She was determined to prove how great her mentor was.

"Well, first, we stared each other down. What he said about having nine lives... Well, clearly that was just a bluff to frighten the youngsters!" Several of the warriors nodded in understanding. "I called it. I told him, 'Your Clan's been ravaged by disease and war. You can't have all nine lives – so how many to you really have?'"

"Well _clearly_, for what he's done to ShadowClan, he has no life!" Bluestar jibed playfully.

"_Ohhhh!"_ The crowd roared with laughter, stamping their paws into the ground in agreement with their leader.

Tigerclaw looked up from where he was lying with Longtail and Darkstripe, within earshot of the tale but not completely paying attention. The laughter didn't die down for a few heartbeats, where Greypaw had to shout to be heard.

"When Brokenstar saw the rest of the ShadowClan cats coming, with hackles raised and fangs bared, he turned tail and ran!"

"Bluestar!" Tigerclaw called from beside the thorn bush. "It's time for the midday patrols!"

The blue-grey leader rose to her paws and glanced once at the sky. It was a little early but it didn't matter. "Alright," she meowed clearly, "Patrols. I want Runningwind, Tigerclaw, Willowpelt and Dustpaw on the border patrol. On the hunting... Firepaw, Greypaw and Mousefur. I will be leading."

Whitestorm watched the named cats rise and head off to their respective groups.

Bluestar turned and touched his nose. "I trust you to watch over the camp, Whitestorm."

"Yes, Bluestar." Whitestorm nodded. "Could I have a word before you leave?"

Bluestar crouched and leaned forward.

"In the battle, Firepaw and Greypaw fought like warriors. I'd like to commend them, and drop a not-so-subtle hint that perhaps it's time for their warrior ceremonies."

Bluestar smiled and sat up, rocking back on her haunches. "I see," she murmured. "To be honest I was thinking about that myself. They've both certainly earned it, haven't they?" She paused. "The gathering is tonight. I can't very well appoint them as warriors now because they won't be able to sit vigil, unless they plan on guarding the gathering."

"Yellowfang says that I'm fit enough to travel," Whitestorm suggested. "Could I attend this gathering? I would like to hear how ShadowClan is doing. That and spending a few days in the medicine cat's den is making me restless."

"Am I really _that_ boring, Whitestorm?" Yellowfang growled. Whitestorm pushed himself up with a playful smile.

"No. It's just your _snoring,_ Yellowfang!"

Yellowfang pretended to spit crossly at him and cuffed his shoulder. "Well I wouldn't have to keep myself asleep by snoring if you didn't move around so much!"

"It's not my fault you drugged my prey with poppy seeds on that second night," he pointed out. Bluestar stared at Yellowfang in disbelief.

"You _drugged_ Whitestorm?"

Yellowfang turned to her new leader and huffed. "How else was I meant to keep him still? I swear, Bluestar, he's like a newborn kit sometimes! Don't think I'm going to feed you."

"No," Whitestorm murmured. "I'm the one who has to catch you all of your prey while you're busy forehead brooding in your den."

"I do not forehead brood!" Yellowfang protested.

Bluestar purred and left the two alone.

"It seems to me like you do," Whitestorm shrugged.

They finally stopped bickering when Frostfur slipped out of the nursery and dragged the tom aside for a word. The white she-cat settled on a soft patch of grass in the clearing and eyed his wounds briefly.

"I never got to say this after you got back and you collapsed," the queen meowed softly. "And since after that I've been looking after my kits..."

"You don't need to thank me," Whitestorm assured her. "The safety of your kits was the best outcome that I could have hoped for. Compared to the pain that you must have felt when you went into the nursery and couldn't find your kits, my wounds barely scratched the surface. And, as far as I'm concerned, it was worth the fight."

Frostfur watched in awe as the great white warrior continued. "Just help ThunderClan to raise them into the best warriors that they can be, and that will be thanks enough for me."

Frostfur nodded solemnly and sniffed. "I will," she meowed. "Thank you, Whitestorm. I'll show you that my kits can be the best warriors that they can be."

Whitestorm nodded, smiled, and then his ear twitched. "They're calling for you. You should go to them."

Frostfur nodded and padded away.

Whitestorm watched her leave, his tail curled around his paws. _I've been wondering who the father of her kits are, _he thought. It was a queen's right whether or not she divulged the identity of a cat's father. Because of the colour of their coat, he had assumed that perhaps Tigerclaw, but that didn't account for Cinderkit, who was a deep grey. Tigerclaw was a deep brown tabby with amber eyes. It made sense if he had sired Brackenkit, but Tigerclaw showed no interest at all in that litter, and he already had shown some interest in Goldenflower, though they hadn't publicised it. Goldenflower had Swiftkit, but he couldn't have been Tigerclaw's kit.

But the question that he had to ask above all else: who was-

"_Whitestorm!"_

His ears pricked as he heard the hoarse voice of Yellowfang. The she-cat was padding across the clearing towards him. "Get back into the medicine cat's den! I will _not_ have you catching infection!"

"Yes, _mother," _Whitestorm purred. Yellowfang hissed at him and swatted him across the shoulder as he prowled past, heading for the medicine cat' den.


	9. Windlessness

Whitestorm remained at camp when the Clan went to the gathering. As soon as they got back, he could sense great tension in the air, and see fearful glances exchanged between friends. Yellowfang re-entered the medicine cat's den, shaking her head and hissing quietly.

"Yellowfang?"

"You should be asleep!" Growled Yellowfang.

Whitestorm shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. I tend to stay awake when half of our warriors are out of camp."

"You're paranoid," Yellowfang muttered.

"And you're old. What happened at the gathering?"

Yellowfang started to explain what had happened: a possible new allegiance between Nightpelt, the new ShadowClan leader, and Crookedstar, the RiverClan leader.

"Bluestar insisted that WindClan returns to the uplands," she meowed conclusively. "She may be planning to send a patrol out to find and bring them home."

"I see," Whitestorm nodded. "Thank you for reporting back to me, Yellowfang. I appreciate it."

Yellowfang snorted well naturedly. "And now I'd appreciate it if you got some sleep."

Whitestorm curled up into his nest, feeling Yellowfang's tongue rasping over his shoulder bite to clean it, as he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Run Like The Wind

Dawn light filtered through the branches of the medicine cat's den. After two more dawns, he fit enough to walk around on his own and even return to his duties.

"Whitestorm," Darkstripe growled as he padded out of Yellowfang's den. The dark tabby was with Firepaw, Greypaw, Longtail, Sandpaw and Mousefur. "Gather up Firepaw, Greypaw and Sandpaw. Take them to-"

"No, Darkstripe," Tigerclaw meowed coolly as he stalked towards the group. "Bluestar wishes to see Whitestorm, Greypaw and Firepaw in her den." The tabby sternly glared at the two apprentices. _"Now."_

As Whitestorm turned to follow his aunt, he looked towards Firepaw and Greypaw and saw their anxious glances. _Have they done something wrong?_

"Come." Whitestorm flicked the tip of his tail. He let the apprentices through first before he squeezed through the lichen and into the leader's den.

Once inside, he sat down. Tigerclaw weaved around him, brushing against Firepaw so harshly that it knocked the ginger apprentice into his side. Whitestorm nudged the apprentice back up onto his paws with his nose and curled his tail around his paws.

"Sorry," mumbled Firepaw, hot with embarrassment.

Whitestorm shrugged. "Not your fault. Bluestar?"

The blue-grey she-cat was examining her senior warrior and two apprentices, her head up and eyes bright. Tigerclaw stood in the middle of the smooth sandstone floor. Whitestorm tried to read his expression, but his honey amber eyes were as cold and steady as always.

Bluestar began at once. "Whitestorm, Firepaw, Greypaw, I have an important mission for you."

"A mission?" Firepaw echoed. Relief and excitement made the apprentice tense against Whitestorm.

"I want you to find WindClan and bring them back to their territory," announced Bluestar.

_Another mission so soon? _Whitestorm's eyes twinkled with surprise and delight.

"Before you get too excited, bear in mind this could be very dangerous," Tigerclaw growled. "We don't know where WindClan has gone, so you will have to follow what is left of their scent – probably into hostile territory."

"But you've been through WindClan territory when you travelled with me to the moonstone, Firepaw, Greypaw," Bluestar pointed out. "And Whitestorm, you've travelled through it several times in the past. Their scent will be familiar, as will the Twoleg territory beyond the uplands."

"Will it just be us?" Asked Firepaw.

"Our other warriors are needed here," meowed Tigerclaw. "Leaf-bare is coming and we need to gather as much fresh kill as possible. Many prey-poor moons lie ahead."

"I can understand why you would choose the apprentices for this task," rumbled Whitestorm casually, "But why choose me as well?"

Bluestar lifted her chin. "Because you have a lot of knowledge that could aid in your travel. That, and I'd rather not send off two apprentices to face who-knows-what on their own. You'll be leading the patrol, Whitestorm."

"I will help you prepare for the journey," Tigerclaw meowed. Whitestorm was sure he could sense a shift in Firepaw's excitement. Bluestar had just as much faith in her deputy as ever. Did Firepaw doubt the warrior? Did he even trust him?

"You must leave as soon as possible," Bluestar continued. "Good luck. And I expect you to listen to Whitestorm."

All three toms nodded in acknowledgement.

"We'll find them," Greypaw promised.

Whitestorm caught the dismissing nod of Bluestar's head and rose to leave. _So now I've got to watch out for WindClan, RiverClan, Shadowclan and two apprentices, _he thought. _This journey will not be easy. I hope they do listen to me._

Tigerclaw followed them out of Bluestar's den. "Do you remember how to get to WindClan territory?"

"Oh, yes, Tigerclaw, we were only-"

Firepaw interrupted Greypaw's eager reply. "Only a few _moons_ ago."

Whitestorm glanced back, catching the warning glare that Firepaw sent at Greypaw. He stiffened. Tigerclaw hesitated.

_Have they been hunting in WindClan land?_

He caught Tigerclaw's suspicious gaze and twitched his whiskers. "We should be moving," Whitestorm mewed.

Tigerclaw nodded, his eyes narrowed. "And you can recall WindClan's scent?"

The apprentices nodded. "If they don't, I'll remind them," Whitestorm meowed.

"You will need herbs for strength and to keep your hunger away. Fetch them from Yellowfang before you leave." Tigerclaw paused. "And don't forget that Nightpelt is planning to travel to the Moonstone tonight. Keep well out of his way."

"Yes, Tigerclaw," replied Firepaw.

"He'll never know we're out there," Greypaw assured him.

"You two," Whitestorm flicked his tail, "Go ahead and ask Yellowfang for some herbs. I wish to speak with Tigerclaw alone."

He didn't miss the nervous glance that passed between the two. _Do they think that I'm going to say something? _The white warrior watched them bound towards the den, and then turned to the deputy.

"I want to make sure that Sandpaw's training continues while I'm away," he meowed. "Could you ask one of the other warriors to take her out training?"

"I'll do better than that," Tigerclaw grunted. "I'll ask Bluestar to take over her training while you're out searching for WindClan."

"Thank you, Tigerclaw," Whitestorm bowed his head slightly. "I'd better get going."

_So what's going on between Firepaw and Tigerclaw? And what did Greypaw almost reveal before Firepaw stopped him? _Whitestorm thought as he crossed the clearing towards Yellowfang's den. There was a distinctive chill in the air, despite the rising sun, but Whitestorm's thick white coat blocked the breeze out. He could feel it growing heavier slightly as the days went by.

Yellowfang's den lay at the end of a tunnel under ferns. A large split rock stood in a corner of a small shaded glade. It used to be Spottedleaf's den, but the warrior had been murdered by Clawface. Even though he missed the soft-spoken she-cat, he had never regretted letting him go.

"_Yuck!_" Spat Greypaw as Whitestorm pushed into the den. "Just as bad as last time!"

Yellowfang looked up as Whitestorm padded over, dropping two bundles of herbs at his feet. "Take this bundle with you – but don't eat it." She sounded annoyed, and Whitestorm could understand why. "These are your travelling herbs. These are herbs to stave out infection, cleanse wounds and soothe fragile minds. There's also a few travelling herbs in here as well, but these are for if you find WindClan. Give them to the medicine cat, Barkface. He'll know what to do."

"Thank you," Whitestorm lapped up his herbs, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth. Yellowfang passed him the herb bundle wrapped within two dock leaves and moved around to examine his wounds.

"Put cobwebs over wounds. Horsetail treats infection – that's in there, you should recognise the scent." Yellowfang meowed. "And there's also a bit of Marigold as well."

"I appreciate your offer," Whitestorm nodded. "We must leave now. I promise I'll be careful not to open up any wounds."

"You'd better," growled Yellowfang, "Else I'm coming out and I'll-"

"There are apprentices present," Whitestorm chuckled.

"-Kick your tail from here to Fourtrees."

"Don't worry, Yellowfang," Greypaw meowed.

"We'll make sure he doesn't get hurt!" Firepaw promised.

Whitestorm turned to the two apprentices. "Now you know if I do end up getting hurt again, it won't be just me that gets kicked to Fourtrees," he pointed out.

Firepaw and Greypaw blanched.

Yellowfang let out a rusty purr. "Get going! Silly apprentices!"

"And senior warrior," Whitestorm meowed over his shoulder. As he hustled the two apprentices out, he heard a frustrated hiss and felt something thump against his rump.

The apprentices sprinted out of the glade. As they raced through the gorse tunnel, Whitestorm heard Bluestar call out, "May StarClan light your path!"

And the ferns, which were rustling in the gentle morning breeze, seemed to be whispering, "Good luck! Travel safely!"


	11. ThunderClan and WindClan Move On

As they headed out of camp, the two apprentices almost crashed into Runningwind, who was leading the dawn patrol. Stopping, he turned and headed back to the group, as Runningwind hissed at them angrily.

"My apologies, Runningwind. But I'm afraid we can't stop to talk."

"I hear you three are going on a mission," the swift warrior dipped his head seeing Whitestorm.

"Yes," Firepaw meowed, abashed.

"Then may you have StarClan's protection," meowed Runningwind coolly.

Sandpaw stepped around Runningwind, her eyes scornful. "What you going for?" She sneered. "Off to catch voles?"

The lean tabby, Runningwind, turned and whispered something into Sandpaw's ear. Her expression changed and the contempt in her green eyes switched to guarded curiosity, and then nervousness as she caught sight of her mentor standing over her.

"Sandpaw, train well in my absence. I'll be wanting a report of your progress upon my return."

"Yes, Whitestorm."

The patrol stood aside to let Firepaw, Greypaw and Whitestorm pass. "Firepaw, Greypaw, don't stray."

The trio shared few words as they scrambled up the side of the ravine and followed the route through the forest to Fourtrees. They travelled at a steady pace, saving their breath for the race through WindClan territory, but paused at the top of the steep slope at the far side of the clearing. Their sides were heaving from the climb, but Whitestorm barely seemed winded. He sat down on the ground, gazing down the slope.

"Is it always windy up here?" Grumbled Greypaw, fluffing out his thick fur against the blast of cold air that swept across the uplands.

"There are few trees to block the wind," Whitestorm murmured. Lifting his nose, he scented the air and stiffened. "You had better get used to the breeze and remember about travelling downwind. WindClan's moor has little shelter from the elements."

Firepaw inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents around him. "Do you smell RiverClan warriors?"

Greypaw blinked. "No. Do you think there might be some here?"

"Maybe," Firepaw meowed. "They might want to make the most of WindClan's absence, especially since they know WindClan will be back soon."

"You're right, youngster," Whitestorm meowed quietly. "From what I heard, RiverClan could very well be up here. I doubt they'll be able to catch land prey, but even so, we should be vigilant. Should we come across a RiverClan patrol, they have every right to try and stop us."

"But they know we're going out to find WindClan!" Greypaw protested.

"They know," repeated Whitestorm calmly. "However you need to listen more closely to others, Greypaw. They accept that we're trying to find them. That isn't the same as accepting or agreeing to it. If they wanted to, they could stop us. We just have to make sure that they don't."

Whitestorm's feet pounded on the ground like heartbeats of thunder. He charged down into the oak-shaded clearing and walked down a frozen turf trail sheltered by heather. A fresh scent stopped Firepaw in his tracks.

"Can you smell that?" He hissed quietly.

"Yes," whispered Greypaw, flattening himself against the ground. "RiverClan!"

Firepaw dropped into a crouch, keeping his ears below the heather. Whitestorm copied him carefully, but lifted his head to peer over the bushes.

"A hunting patrol," he meowed grimly. "I can see them. Four warriors."

Firepaw stretched up cautiously to look.

Four RiverClan warriors were chasing a rabbit through a patch of gorse. Whitestorm recognised Blackclaw from the gathering. The smoky-black warrior pounced, his claws unsheathed, but sat up again with nothing to show for the chase. The rabbit had made it back to her warren, safe and sound, but shaken.

Firepaw and Greypaw dropped down again and pressed their bellies to the cold turf.

"They're not good rabbit hunters," Greypaw hissed scornfully.

"They're used to catching fish, not rabbits," whispered Whitestorm quietly. Suddenly his ears pricked. A terrified rabbit was charging towards them. Adrenaline rushed through him as he realised the RiverClan warriors were chasing after it – straight for them!

Glancing around, Whitestorm caught the scent of badgers. With a warning hiss, he drew closer to the bushes. "They're coming," he said quickly. "Greypaw, Firepaw, come!"

The scent of badger was stale in the air. He realised that there must be an old badger set nearby and headed for it. It was foxlike and strong, headed into the heather.

"Are you sure it's safe? I smell badger," Greypaw meowed.

Whitestorm ignored him. A rustle of heather behind them told the senior warrior that the RiverClan warriors were closing in.

"Here!" Whitestorm shouldered aside a tuft of heather to reveal a sandy hole in the ground. "Get inside! The badger's scent will disguise ours. We can wait until they're gone."

Firepaw slid into the dark hole with Greypaw at his heels. Whitestorm squeezed inside after them and tugged the heather back over the entrance, barring the way with his massive body.

His claws slipped from his sheathes and he closed his eyes half way. Firepaw tensed beside him as paw steps thudded overhead.

Whitestorm forced himself to remain calm as the RiverClan warriors' weight loosened the earth above him. Dust showered down like a thick pelt onto his body and he closed his eyes and held his breath.

"Badger set!" A RiverClan warrior yowled. From the rasping mew, Whitestorm recognised it as Blackclaw.

"Is it abandoned?" That was Leopardfur. "The rabbit may be hiding inside."

_Something's hiding inside, _Whitestorm thought to humour himself. _But it's no rabbit._

"Check it." Leopardfur ordered.

Firepaw and Greypaw bristled wildly beneath him, tensing against his haunches. Whitestorm let out a low hiss to silence them.

The heather was pulled away. Whitestorm remained as still as a stone, eyes shut and body caked with dust. His ears flattened back against his head and he stilled his breathing, feeling it tickle his nose. A paw reached inside and prodded his side experimentally.

The apprentices' fear scent battered his nostrils, faint against the overwhelming odour of badger. Whitestorm moved his leg very slowly, digging his claws into the ground. As Blackclaw reached in again, Whitestorm let out a low, guttural growl from his throat. It sounded agitated, twisted and mangled, as though from a grumpy badger.

Blackclaw jerked away violently. "I think there's a badger still inside."

"Then get away from there!" Spat Leopardfur. "We're here to hunt prey, not badgers!"

"The trail leads this way!" Called a RiverClan warrior suddenly. Suddenly the sound of paws scrabbling away, sending dust spraying up against his head. The RiverClan warriors were leaving!

Whitestorm slowly released his breath, but remained still for a few heartbeats longer, his ears straining to catch the sound of any straggling warriors.

"...D'you think they've gone?" Greypaw whispered.

"Silence!" Whitestorm hissed.

_That was too close, _the white tom thought, blinking open an amber eye. As soon as he was sure the RiverClan warriors were gone, Whitestorm heaved himself out of the badger set and shook himself.

White fur was stained with earth. He growled quietly to himself, examining his paws, flexing them to get the dirt from his toes. Firepaw and Greypaw poked their heads out at him.

There was no sign of the RiverClan patrol. The fresh breeze cleared their scent glands of the overwhelming badger stench.

"It takes me ages to get my pelt looking clean," he complained. "If I ever catch those cats..."

"We should look for the camp," suggested Firepaw, looking around. "It'll be the best place to pick up their scent."

Whitestorm gave himself a final shake and slipped through the heather, keeping their mouths open to pick up the scent of RiverClan warriors. They stopped t the foot of a large flat rock that sloped up steeply, past the tops of the gorse bushes.

Whitestorm pressed himself to the earth. "Greypaw," he meowed. "Climb up and take a look around. Your pelt will blend better with the stone."

"Keep your head down," Firepaw warned.

Greypaw crept up the rock, crouched at the top and gazed around the plateau. After a few heartbeats he skidded back down to Whitestorm.

"Over there, there's a hollow," he puffed, signalling with his tail. "I can see a gap in the heather."

Whitestorm nodded. "It's the only place sheltered from the wind. It would make sense for that to be their camp. Stay close and keep a look out."

As they neared the hollow, Firepaw trotted beside Whitestorm, wary of the broad-shouldered tom's warning glance not to go too far ahead. Once they'd reached the top, Whitestorm gazed over the edge. It looked like a StarClan warrior had just reached down, scooped up a pawful of peat from the plateau and replaced it with a thick tangle of gorse that grew to the level of the ground on each side.

Whitestorm's lips drew back and he gulped in the air hungrily.

_There are lots of WindClan scents here. They're many but stale. Old, young, male, female, and there's crow-food and blood. I have no doubt about it. This is the WindClan camp._

He crept down the slope and shouldered his way through the bushes. The gorse tangled in his thick fur, pulled at his body and clawed at his nose. The opening was obviously meant for someone smaller and thinner. His body tore a wider hole in the entrance, allowing the apprentices easier access, but the white warrior could still hear low growls and hisses as the gorse bit at their paws and snapped at their ears.

Beneath him, the sand had been trodden down by countless generations of paws. At the end of one clearing stood a rock, worn smooth by the wind.

_WindClan's version of the Highrock, _Whitestorm noted. _Where Tallstar would make announcements and do naming ceremonies._

"This is definitely their camp," he murmured. "But for Brokenstar to have chased them out of such a well protected place... They should be able to see enemies coming for countless fox lengths before they reach the camp!"

"If looks like they put up a good fight," Firepaw mewed. The camp was ravaged; claw marks across the floor, blood spattered across the rocks and prey scattered across the ground, half-eaten by crows. Clumps of fur made birds nests across the ground. Beds of moss had been pulled from the dens and shredded into thin strands.

Whitestorm pressed his nose to the ground. Everywhere the scent of stale ShadowClan cats mingled with terrified WindClan cats.

Firepaw shuddered. "We should find out which way they ran," he suggested, pressing close to Whitestorm.

"Creepy, isn't it?" Murmured the white tom, his claws itching in his pads. "Firepaw, Greypaw, check the perimeter of the camp. I'll search the dens for bodies."

"Why?" Asked Greypaw, blinking.

Whitestorm turned to the apprentice, feeling strangely annoyed. "Because if any cat has fallen here, they deserve a warrior's burial. WindClan or ThunderClan, no warrior, apprentice or kit should be turned into crowfood."

Greypaw bowed his head in apology and backed away to follow out his orders.

Whitestorm poked his head into a few of the dens. It looked as though everyone had escaped, until he looked into the nursery and saw the body of a dark grey queen hunched over her kits. Whitestorm pushed through and gently gave the three a nudge, his mind reeling at the stench of death and rotting flesh. The queen had died fighting for her kits - her body torn with claws and bites, her lips still drawn back into a snarl, with blue eyes angered even in death. Three kits lay beneath her, cold and still.

"Oh StarClan," Whitestorm breathed. It felt as like the spirit of the queen was still here, restless and unavenged. As he reached over and gently pried her from her kits, he drew back with a startled hiss. A writhing bed of maggots was stuck between her and her kits. His stomach burned and a fresh jolt of adrenaline surged through his body, making his paws tingle.

Instinct told him to back out of the den. It felt as though she was in the den with him, watching him, and Whitestorm looked around in alarm, his fur bristling.

_Easy, easy, _he thought. The white tom closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, then forced himself forward again. He took the she-cat gently by the scruff and gave her another tug, pulling her from her nest.

"If you are watching over me from StarClan," Whitestorm bowed slightly to the she-cat, "Please allow me to give you a proper burial. I understand that you would want your own clan mates to do it, but..."

Firepaw and Greypaw looked stunned and repulsed as Whitestorm dragged the queen's body into the clearing. As careful as he could be, he picked up the kits and gathered them into their mother's belly, so that they might be together in dignity, one last time.

"While we cannot sit vigil for this brave queen, who lost her life and her kits," Whitestorm meowed clearly, "We can give her a proper and respectful burial. WindClan will honour these kits when we return them to the moor."

A strange scent flowed over him like a breath of fresh air. Lifting his head, Whitestorm felt it swirl around his broad, scarred shoulders like a soft gust of wind, lifting up his spirits. The she-cat was there with him, he realised, thanking him for laying her to rest.

Removing his eyes from the sight of the dead queen, he looked over to the two apprentices. They were staring at the bodies, eyes wide and horror etched into their eyes.

"Firepaw, Greypaw," Whitestorm said softly, breaking them out of their shock. They shook themselves and looked at him, but he couldn't help but notice the nervousness in their eyes. "I need you to help me dig."

"But how are we going to dig four graves?" Greypaw asked. "We don't have time to do them all..."

Whitestorm shook his head. "No," he meowed, "Just one grave. The nursery is a den for bringing life. This queen gave birth to three kits, and they died side-by-side. It would be wrong to separate them in death. We will dig one grave and lay them to rest together."

Firepaw glanced once at the bodies, swallowed and nodded. "Okay," he rasped. "Where do we dig?"

"Outside of the camp." Whitestorm meowed. "Somewhere where they can be at peace, and not have their clan mates trample over their grave when WindClan returns to the moors."

Greypaw stood up and flattened his fur against his body. "You really believe that we can bring them home?"

Whitestorm stretched his legs. "We must. There is no option to fail, Greypaw. Just as StarClan has given up Fourtrees and four seasons, we must have four Clans." He explained. "I don't want to hear any doubt from either of you. We _will_ find them, and we _will _convince them to return."

There was an expression of respect and determination on both of the toms' faces as Whitestorm eyed the ginger and grey apprentices. After a moment of silence, he flicked his tail and turned.

"Now dig. We mustn't dawdle. Once we've buried these WindClan cats, we must move on..."


	12. Secrets Revealed, Questions Arise

"...Well," Firepaw mewed, "We heard a little bit about the old Clans when we were at our first gathering."

The three toms were seeking shelter near a Thunderpath on paws. It was a tunnel that ran beneath the Thunderpath. Monsters roared past above them, making the entire tunnel tremble with fear. The sudden torrential rain had chased them inside, and now Whitestorm was propped up against the entrance, his body blocking out some of the rain and wind. The moon was high in the sky and the clouds were swollen and grey.

They'd travelled for a long time without eating and their bellies growled with hunger.

Greypaw looked wistful. "Lionheart told us about LeopardClan and the Ancient Clans," he admitted. "But we don't really know much about ThunderClan."

Whitestorm eyed the two apprentices with surprise. "At your age I'd have assumed that you listened to the tales spoken by elders of ThunderClan." He saw Firepaw lower his head in embarrassment and continued, "Very well. I'll tell you some things. What would you like to know?"

"Well," Firepaw lifted his head again and swallowed. "While tending to the elders, we heard something about a ThunderClan leader who went to live with Twolegs. Could you tell us about him?"

Whitestorm paused. "Oh! You mean Pinestar! Yes, he was a leader who had served for many seasons."

"What can you tell us about him?" Asked Greypaw. "Was he the leader before Bluestar?"

Whitestorm shook his head. "Pinestar was a brown tom with green eyes. He served ThunderClan with his deputy, Sunfall, who succeeded him. Bluestar was Sunstar's deputy, appointed when Sunstar's first deputy, Tawnyspots, retired." He explained. "Pinestar left ThunderClan after losing eight of his nine lives for ThunderClan, and told the Clan that he simply wasn't ready to die. He left his kit and mate behind."

"Pinestar had a kit?" Firepaw asked. "Who was it?"

Whitestorm paused, then meowed, "Pinestar's son is Tigerclaw."

Firepaw's eyes widened with shock. There was silence for a moment, and then the ginger apprentice whispered, "You mean Tigerclaw's father was a Clan leader who became a kittypet?"

"Is that why he hates kittypets so much?" Asked Greypaw.

Whitestorm nudged the bundle of herbs that Yellowfang had given him closer to his body. "Tigerclaw may dislike non-Clan cats for that reason. Or he might have been influenced by his mentor, Thistleclaw."

"Thistleclaw?" Firepaw asked. "Bluestar told me that he was bloodthirsty and cruel, and that his answer to everything was to fight."

Whitestorm suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Yes, I suppose that was what Thistleclaw was like. He certainly did seem rather aggressive, even to me, as a kit."

"Did you know him?" Asked Greypaw.

Whitestorm licked his lips dryly. "Thistleclaw's mate, my mother, was Bluestar's sister, Snowfur."

It took a moment, but then Greypaw gasped. "Your father was Thistleclaw?"

The senior warriors straightened up, ears pricked. "Yes. My mother was Snowfur, who was Bluestar's sister. She died, hit by a monster on the Thunderpath. Bluestar raised me in her place but there was a lot of tension between the two. At the time, I was in the nursery with Tigerclaw. Bluestar wanted to take me on as her own apprentice but Sunstar refused, since she had raised me. He figured she would have been soft so I was taught by Patchpelt."

The two apprentices listened in awe. He was sure he could see wonder roaming in Firepaw's eyes as he examined the tom's ragged ginger coat. Despite Whitestorm's own windswept, dusty pelt, seeing him look like a shade of dull, dying flame seemed disturbing.

The large white tom reached forward, his tongue rasping over Firepaw's shoulder, licking away the dust. At first the ginger apprentice shied away, growling, but then he relaxed slightly, reaching around to share tongues with the more experienced warrior.

_It'll take away some of the stress of this mission if I show them that our Clan culture doesn't vanish when we are away from camp. _He figured. Angling his head away, he started to lick Greypaw's ear, until all three toms were sharing tongues.

"So, Firepaw," Whitestorm's voice was muffled as he washed Greypaw's shoulders. "Why don't you tell us about yourself before you joined the Clans?"

Firepaw stopped washing the senior warrior's shoulder and looked nervous. "Well, I..."

"It's okay, Firepaw," Greypaw smiled. "You're among friends here."

"Yes," Whitestorm rumbled, reaching around to reach beneath Firepaw's jaw. "Besides, remember what I said before we chased out Brokenstar? It's who you are, not where you're from."

Firepaw tilted his head back and allowed Whitestorm to lick at his throat. "Well," he begun timidly, "I was born in the Twoleg nest that you originally saw me sitting on the fence by," he meowed. "My mother was called Nutmeg... She was a brown and white tabby. She was really nice, from what I remember, but I don't know what happened to her. She just vanished one day."

"And your father?"

Firepaw fell silent. "I... Just remember that he was brown, and... He had... Reddish-brown fur... And green eyes. He was broad, with a torn ear, and he was very big. I think his name was Jake, but I think he died soon after I was born."

Whitestorm stiffened and stopped licking.

_It couldn't be..._

"Whitestorm? Is something wrong?"

_StarClan, how do I explain this? Could it possibly be true? Firepaw's father was Jake?_

"No." The tom meowed after a moment. He peered around himself, out at the rain, and shivered. "Alright, you two, get some sleep. I expect we'll have a long journey ahead of us in the morning."

"Yes, Whitestorm," the apprentices meowed. They huddled against the great white warrior, curling up into two small balls of fur. Whitestorm continued to groom their pelts as they drifted off to sleep, purring quietly to soothe them from the sound of the Thunderpath up above.

Even after they had fallen asleep, Whitestorm found himself staring at Firepaw. Whitestorm knew about Jake. He'd been seen on the Twoleg fence every so often by Bluestar on patrols. But for Jake to have sired Firepaw...

_That makes things complicated._


	13. Old Wounds Reopened

When Firepaw opened his eyes again, grey light flowing at the end of the tunnel. Dawn must be near. Firepaw's bones ached from the cold hard ground. He nudged Greypaw, who grunted. "Morning already?"

"Almost," Firepaw answered, getting to his paws. Greypaw stretched and stood up too.

Firepaw stiffened and then looked around.

"Where's Whitestorm?" He asked.

Greypaw blinked the tiredness from his eyes, moving to exit the tunnel, but then stopped as something rolled away from his leg. He turned back and blinked.

"Firepaw?"

The ginger apprentice turned around and looked past Greypaw, a little farther into the tunnel. Whitestorm was sitting directly beneath the Thunderpath, sitting still, his senses alert. By Greypaw there was a small rabbit, still relatively warm, and a small wad of moss soaked in water.

The white senior warrior was deep in thought. His tail was coiled up behind him and his nose was lifted.

"Eat and drink quickly," Whitestorm meowed deeply.

Whitestorm felt excitement crackle in the air around him. He'd been unable to sleep, so he'd left the apprentices sleeping beneath the Thunderpath while he searched for some food. Even though he'd been out for most of the night, he had only found a measly rabbit, scrawny and only a few mouthfuls.

The apprentices bent their heads to drink from the moss and to eat the rabbit. They paused to bury the bones before they approached Whitestorm, who looked fairly tired.

"Come," Whitestorm meowed. It wasn't long before they spotted light ahead of them. They quickened their pace until they were racing up a short, steep slope that led them into a world filled with grey dawn light.

They had come up near the edge of a patch of barren, dirty grass. Thunderpaths enclosed it on two sides, and another arched overhead. A fire burned in the middle of the grass. A few Twolegs lay around it. One of them stretched and rolled over and another grunted angrily in its sleep, but the noise and stench from the Thunderpaths didn't seem to wake them.

Whitestorm scanned the scene, cool and calculating. There were many monsters on these paths, but because it was so early there were not as many as usual. The noise made both apprentices flinch up against him and he dug his claws into the ground, narrowing his eyes.

_There! _

Whitestorm's eyes latched onto a dark outline that flitted back and forth in front of the flames. They were definitely the shape of cats, but the Thunderpath stench was too overpowering to tell if they were WindClan.

If this was WindClan, they had fallen hard to resort to living by so many Thunderpaths. _But is it __WindClan?_ Lifting his head, Whitestorm prowled forward, motioning with his tail for the apprentices to stay back.

"Firepaw? Firepaw!" Greypaw's voice caught Whitestorm's ears. The white tom rose to his full height and then sat down, waiting.

"Do you think it's WindClan?" Asked Firepaw.

Greypaw's eyes shone with triumph. "We've found them!"

"Don't get too excited, young ones," Whitestorm warned cautiously. "I'm going to cross the Thunderpath and take a closer look. Stay here and don't move." _If they are WindClan cats, we've only completed a third of our mission. We still have to convince them to return, and then get them back to their moorlands safely._

Whitestorm pressed himself against the side of the Thunderpath, his ears flat against his head and eyes narrowed. A monster sped past, making his claws sink into the gravel beside the wide grey river. A putrid stench, worse than the maggot-ridden body he'd buried, breathed hotly against his face and he sighed to calm himself.

As soon as each side of the path was clear, he bunched his muscles and sprang.

He managed to reach the other side just as a narrow monster with two paws roared past, making him stagger and dive into the tall grass. Within his chest, his heart was pounding, and he panted to collect his breath.

Just then, one of the Twolegs sat up with a jolt and began howling at the ragged cats around the fire. They hadn't seen him, but the noise sent the cats scattering for cover. Whitestorm heard a loud hiss from behind him, sending his heart thrashing in his chest like a caged eagle.

With all caution forgotten, Firepaw and Greypaw raced over the Thunderpath and towards the fire. The two apprentices didn't want to lose sight of the WindClan cats! The Twolegs hurled a strange-shaped rock at the two apprentices. The stone broke and shattered, breaking against Greypaw, but not hurting him. The two rocketed after the retreating cats.

With a furious howl, Whitestorm broke out of his hiding place in the grass and lunged at the Twoleg, sinking his teeth into its ankle. The Twoleg had raised another rock up and was waving it, but dropped it as Whitestorm attacked. Instead, another Twoleg rushed over, kicking the warrior away as Firepaw and Greypaw chased after the WindClan cats.

Fear was replaced with fury as he was sent flying across the grass. The Twoleg reached again for the stone and hurled it at him as he got back up.

The stone exploded beside his ear, showering him in what Whitestorm thought was moon dust. It shimmered like water from the stream but it was sharp and bit into his skin like sharp rocks. Angrily, Whitestorm spat and shook himself, feeling glass dig into his paws. From his impact when the Twoleg had kicked him, his shoulder had wrenched open again.

In the distance, beneath one of the Thunderpath's thick legs, the group of cats stopped and disappeared into the ground. Whitestorm ran forward and clawed at one of the Twolegs before he ran back into the grass, aiming to retrieve his pile of herbs.

He found it back where he'd left it and snatched it up as the Twoleg threw another rock. This one missed him completely as he leapt out of the way and raced towards the shadows beneath the flying Thunderpath.

He panted by the time he reached it, wondering where on earth they could have gotten to, before he realised that there was a hole in the ground. The great warrior glanced back over his shoulder at the enraged Twolegs, then slid into the tunnel, which was round and lined with stone.

He was plunged into total darkness.


	14. Run With The Wind

Whitestorm had to pause to catch his breath. His wounds had been a little itchy and sore on the journey, no doubt because they were still healing, but now his shoulder was bleeding freely again. Where his ear was scarred from an old battle, he felt blood curve around the skin and roll down the side of his jaw.

_I told them to stay where they were!_ The tom was angry. The apprentices had disobeyed his orders and now they were separated. He could catch their fear scent in the tunnel, which was equally as swamped with WindClan markers. _At least we know they're here..._

Still, he was going to have a few words with them when he found them.

The damp air smelled rank and bitter – even worse than the tunnel that they had slept in. Loud hissing erupted from deeper into the tunnel but it was too dark to see anything. As he swiftly made his way further into the tunnel he sensed the wall brush against his whiskers, and turned to follow it through.

As he reached the end of the tunnel, a thin, dull light met his amber eyes. They widened, adjusting to the light, and he saw the small frames of Firepaw and Greypaw crouched against the ground. There was a tall black and white tom circling them, nose pressed to their pelts.

_Tallstar!_

Relief filled Whitestorm, seeing the tom still alive and well, though thin. He crouched in the shadows, watching, ready to spring if Tallstar decided to attack the apprentices. When he stepped away, back into the tunnel, he heard a low mumble of "ThunderClan".

Whitestorm waited tensely, ready to come out if he needed to._ If they see me, they might feel threatened. Firepaw, Greypaw, don't say anything foolish!_

"I was expecting ShadowClan," Tallstar growled angrily. "Why are you here?"

"We came to find you," Firepaw meowed. Whitestorm didn't ignore the nervous crack of the tom's voice. "Bluestar and the other Clan leaders want you to return to your home."

The WindClan leader's voice was wary and suspicious. "That land is not safe for my Clan."

"Yes, it is," Firepaw meowed, rising to his paws. The sudden motion made growls of annoyance come from the WindClan warriors. Greypaw, catching Whitestorm in the corner of his eye, glanced over.

"Is someone else with you?" Tallstar's hackles rose and he hissed.

Taking a breath, Whitestorm stepped out into the light. He felt eyes lock onto him, both with surprise and with recognition.

"You are Whitestorm, are you not?" Tallstar spat. "How many of ThunderClan are here?"

"Just me and these two," Whitestorm meowed, the bundle of herbs in his maw. "Bluestar sent us-"

"What is that?" Tallstar narrowed his eyes.

Whitestorm stepped forward with deliberate slowness and placed the bundle at Tallstar's paws. "A gift from ThunderClan. I was told to deliver this to your medicine cat, Barkface. I'm not sure what everything is inside but I know that there are some herbs to treat wounds and infection, and some travelling herbs to keep up strength."

Barkface, a short-tailed brown tom, stepped out of the ranks. Whitestorm respectfully backed away, allowing Tallstar and Barkface to open the dock leaf. Immediately, warmth chased away the anxiety in his gut, seeing Barkface snatch up the small bundle of herbs like it was a gift from StarClan themselves. He took it into the crowd and started to mix and press them against wounds.

Tallstar relaxed slightly, nodding his thanks.

Whitestorm smiled at the WindClan leader, curling his tail around his paws. "Tallstar. Bluestar has sent us to bring you home."

"It is as I said," Tallstar meowed sternly. "That land is not safe for my Clan."

"But—" Firepaw begun. Whitestorm glared at him for silence. The ginger tom clamped his mouth shut.

"I bring you a report from the forest," Whitestorm announced, lifting his voice for all to hear. "ShadowClan and ThunderClan have driven Brokenstar into exile. Brokenstar's followers have also been chased out. They are no longer a threat."

The warrior behind Tallstar turned and looked at one another. Murmurs of surprise rippled back through the Clan.

Firepaw drew a shaking breath. "You must return as soon as possible." He urged. "ShadowClan and RiverClan are starting to hunt in the uplands. We saw a RiverClan hunting patrol near the old badger set while we were on out way here."

Tallstar bristled angrily.

"But they are poor rabbit hunters," Whitestorm intervened swiftly. "They went home with empty bellies."

Tallstar and his warriors purred with satisfaction. Their good spirits encouraged Whitestorm, but he could see how weak they were. The Clan would find the journey back to the moorlands long and hard, he had no doubt.

"Are you sure Brokenstar and his tyrants are gone?" Asked a black tom with a twisted paw.

"We chased them out ourselves," Greypaw meowed. "The three of us were in the attack patrol. Whitestorm was the leader."

"Why did ThunderClan help ShadowClan to rid itself of Brokenstar?" Asked Tallstar curiously.

Whitestorm met his gaze. "Since WindClan was chased from its home, ShadowClan was demanding extra grounds to hunt on from ThunderClan. Crookedstar agreed to share the river but ThunderClan made no agreement. Brokenstar ordered his warriors to sneak into our camp. Clawface killed our medicine cat, Spottedleaf, stole and injured our kits."

Yowls of outrage erupted from the scrawny WindClan cats. Whitestorm held himself steadily, glancing at the open wound on his shoulder.

"Attacking a medicine cat is against the warrior code!" Spat Tallstar furiously. "And kits! How dare they?"

"This was one of the wounds that I sustained in the fight with Brokenstar. We retrieved the kits and chased out Brokenstar, and the Clan is being led by Nightpelt now, I should presume. But as StarClan has given us Fourtrees, four oaks and four seasons, the forest needs four Clans." Whitestorm stared calmly at Tallstar. "Tallstar, I ask that WindClan return home, back to your moorlands, where you belong."

Tallstar remained motionless, his tail curled around his paws. He seem to be hesitating, as though he realised that Brokenstar could still be roaming the forest.

"May we travel with you?" Firepaw suggested respectfully, as though Tallstar had already made up his decision.

_Have I missed something?_

Tallstar's eyes flashed. Both he and Whitestorm recognised the question as a tactful offer of help. He looked steadily at Whitestorm. "Yes," he replied at last. "Thank you."

Whitestorm sighed with relief. _Two thirds of our task has been completed. Now all that remains is the journey back._

"I don't think we have all introduced ourselves," Whitestorm meowed after a moment. "You recognise me as Whitestorm, a senior warrior of ThunderClan. This-" he circled Firepaw "-Is Firepaw. The other is Greypaw."

"Apprentices?" Tallstar echoed, tilting his head. "Why send apprentices so far from home?"

"We've almost completed our warrior training," Greypaw meowed. "And Bluestar thought it would be a good idea, seeing as how we sent Brokenstar running with his tail between his legs."

"Yes," Whitestorm suddenly rounded on the two apprentices. "Speaking of running..."

With a lunge that could give an adder a challenge, Whitestorm plucked up Greypaw in his teeth and shook the apprentice furiously. Firepaw darted away but the white warrior caught him and gave him a rough shake, much to Tallstar's surprise. Looming over the two young toms, the amber-eyed senior warrior bared his fangs.

"That'll teach you to run across the Thunderpath without looking!"

"Well we- we didn't _mean_ to," Greypaw stammered, flattened to the ground. "Did we, Firepaw?"

Firepaw shook his head. "I, uh-Nope! Nope, we sure didn't!"

"You disobeyed my orders," growled Whitestorm crossly, his shoulder fur bristling. "You could have been hit by a monster! You two scared me half to death! And then I had to bite those Twolegs to keep you safe. You shouldn't have taken the risk! Not only that but now Yellowfang is going to kick me to Fourtrees for opening up my wounds again!"

Whitestorm's anger was clear from the way his eyes blazed like boiling honey. The two apprentices were as flat as road kill on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes and bushy tails steaming out like fox pelts.

Tallstar's whiskers twitched in amusement. After a moment he flicked his tail. It must have been a signal, for the line of warriors behind him split up. "We shall leave at once," he announced, standing up.

"Are we all fit for the journey?" Tallstar asked as the warriors began to move among the queens and elders.

"All except Morningflower's kit," replied a mottled brown warrior. "He is too young."

"Then we must take turns carrying him," answered Tallstar.

The WindClan cats shuffled forwards, their eyes dull with pain and exhaustion. A tortoiseshell queen was holding a tiny kit gently by the scruff of it's neck. The little creature's eyes were hardly open.

"Ready?" Called Tallstar.

Deadfoot – the black tom with the misshapen paw – looked around the Clan and answered for them. "Ready," he meowed.

Whitestorm led the way back through to the tunnel entrance. The ThunderClan cats waited until the WindClan cats emerged blinking into the daylight. Some of the elders blinked so long and hard that their faces scrunched up against the weak sun.

_They mustn't have been out for some time._

Tallstar padded out of the tunnel last of all and walked to the head of his Clan.

"We will take you back the way we came," meowed Whitestorm. "I believe it's shorter."

"Is it safe?" Asked Tallstar. Whitestorm felt a hunted look enter the noble leader's eyes.

"We met no trouble coming here," Greypaw skirted around the leader and looked up at him.

Tallstar flicked his tail decisively, as though he were brushing away any doubt. "Good," he declared. "Greypaw, Firepaw, you two flank my Clan. Tell my deputy if you see trouble."

"Which one is he?" Asked Firepaw.

Tallstar nodded towards the black tom. "Deadfoot," he meowed. The warrior turned at the sound of his name, pricking his ears attentively.

The two apprentices trotted over to join him.

"Whitestorm, you lead the way," Tallstar added. "And, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like a word with you."

Whitestorm dipped his head and set off at a steady pace. As the Clan made their way under the Thunderpath bridge, Whitestorm could smell ashes from the fire, but as they padded out onto the stretch of wasteland, the Twolegs had vanished. Whitestorm padded to the tunnel where they had spent the night and pushed himself through.

Tallstar entered straight after, while Firepaw and Greypaw waited at the back until the entire Clan had disappeared inside. Only Deadfoot remained.

"Are you sure it leads to daylight?" The black tom meowed warily.

"It just leads under the Thunderpath. Have you never used this tunnel?" Firepaw asked.

"When our warriors cross the Thunderpath, they prefer to see where they're heading," growled Deadfoot.

Greypaw nodded in understanding. "We came through this way. It means we don't have to risk crossing the Thunderpath."

Deadfoot grunted. "You go first."

Greypaw and Firepaw padded down into the dark hole.


	15. Impact

Whitestorm padded in front of Tallstar through the tunnel. When he emerged, he was staring across the field that led to the final Thunderpath. As Tallstar slithered through the mouth of the tunnel, Whitestorm moved out of his way and halted at the rim of the ocean of grass. Tallstar moved to sit beside him.

"What did you want to speak with me about, Tallstar?" Whitestorm inquired coolly, his tail curled around his paw. He could feel his belly contracting painfully, reminding him of his need for food. The white warrior shifted on his paws and forced his attention on Tallstar, who was staring across the grass.

"I'll ask you when we're moving again." The black-and-white tom promised. It didn't take much longer for the cats to gather on the other side. Tallstar started to lead the way forward again with Whitestorm limping at his side. They walked quickly at first to get a bit of privacy.

"On your way here, I assumed you entered our camp?" Tallstar asked.

Whitestorm nodded. "We did. Your camp is filled with crow-food, and the bedding has been dragged from each den and torn apart. The prey still runs well, however, and we did not see any badgers or foxes lurking."

Tallstar let out a sigh of relief. "Good. So the camp itself is intact." Whitestorm turned, seeing a sudden expression of fear grow on the tired leader's face. "And did you search the dens?"

Whitestorm hesitated. "I did."

Tallstar looked at him. "Tell me, did you find any...?"

"A dark grey queen," Whitestorm murmured quietly. "And three kits. All dead. I'm sorry, but we buried them just outside of your camp, all together."

Tallstar looked frail and mournful. "That queen was called Harefoot. Her kits were called Larkkit, Leafkit and Sparrowkit." He explained. "How did they die? The kits starved, I assume?"

"When I entered the nursery, I saw Harefoot lying over her kits. They died a while back – I think on the night you were chased out, from the state of the bodies when I found them. She was covered in wounds."

"So... The kits suffocated?" Tallstar asked.

Whitestorm bit his lip. "No, Tallstar. The three kits also bore the mark of enemy claws."

Tallstar shuddered, gasped and then whirled on him, fangs bared. "You mean to tell me that some ShadowClan warrior _killed_ those kits!" He spat.

Whitestorm clenched his teeth and nodded. "I think it was Clawface. He's the warrior that killed Spottedleaf, then stole our kits."

"Clawface," Tallstar spat with contempt. "He'll pay for this!"

Whitestorm lowered his head respectfully. "Tallstar, may I ask if Harefoot was your mate?"

Tallstar's eyes burned with rage that frightened even Whitestorm. "She was," he murmured. "She was the mother of my kits. When I ordered the retreat from the battle, I thought that all of the queens had left the nursery. It was only when we reached the top of the hollow that I couldn't find Harefoot, but it was too late to do anything... If I'd only checked..."

Whitestorm shouldered his way forward a bit. "You were busy trying to save your Clan, Tallstar, as Harefoot was saving your kits. War always brings casualties. It's unfortunate that Harefoot was one of those, and that ShadowClan was so twisted by Brokenstar that they dared to attack your kits."

Tallstar sighed. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but Deadfoot yowled from behind, "Tallstar! We need to travel more slowly!"

"Right now your Clan needs you, Tallstar. Save your grieving for later. When we reach the moor, I will stay behind and show you where she was buried."

Tallstar nodded numbly. _For a ThunderClan cat, Whitestorm is a noble and wise warrior._

Despite Deadfoot's call, Tallstar only slowed his pace slightly. The desire to get back home was stronger in Tallstar than in any other cat. He wanted to see his mate's grave. He wanted to see where his kits were buried. He wanted to see her one last time.

By the time that Firepaw, who was carrying Morningflower's kit, reached the hedge, WindClan was already gathered around Tallstar and Whitestorm.

"We cross the Thunderpath here," the WindClan leader announced. His voice was partially drowned out from a monster as it soared past on four grey paws.

Whitestorm gazed at Firepaw, eyeing the kit swinging from his jaws. From the small frame of the kit, and the fact that its eyes were not yet open, he realised that she must have kitted recently. Barkface approached the she-cat with his jaws clamped around the dock leaf. He watched as the short-tailed brown tom placed it down and sniffed along her flanks.

Tallstar followed his gaze. "She kitted only last night," he meowed.

"Has she produced enough milk for him?" Whitestorm asked.

"Some," Tallstar admitted. "All of the food we found around the Thunderpath we shared between the elders and queens. I don't think she's producing enough to sustain him, though, and she's worried because she knows it."

"I see." Whitestorm nodded. Morningflower reached over and took her kit from Firepaw before they all squeezed under the hedge.

Whitestorm crouched at the solid grey river, his paws prickling with anxiety. After almost getting hit on the Thunderpath earlier and having seen Firepaw and Greypaw race across with no regard for their own safety, Whitestorm wasn't looking forward to crossing it again.

"The strongest group will go first," Tallstar meowed.

Before long the entire Clan was clustered beside the Thunderpath, pressed against the sharp twigs, as far back as possible. Whitestorm and Deadfoot moved to the edge with the first group, waiting for a break in the line of monsters. It was much busier than what they'd crossed the night before.

"Go!" Deadfoot spat.

Onewhisker led the first group forwards. Whitestorm stared down one side of the Thunderpath while Deadfoot watched the other. The white warrior shrunk back instinctively as a hot wave attacked his face, as a monster sped past.

When he looked up again, he realised Onewhisker's group had made it across safely. The next group made it across easily – the Thunderpath strangely silent.

Whitestorm's claws dug into the ground. _Why do I suddenly feel so nervous? _He questioned, narrowing his eyes. It wasn't like him. Glancing back to the final group, he watched as they approached. It felt as though he was going to throw up. _Hold on, where's Firepaw?_

Whitestorm lifted his head and looked over the group of crouching WindClan cats. He could make out the shape of a fiery pelt between an elder and Morningflower. Tallstar danced around the group to join Deadfoot.

"Now!" Firepaw ordered as a monster flashed safely past.

Whitestorm and Tallstar hung back as the last group of cats stepped out onto the empty Thunderpath. The elders winced as they padded across on paws raw from the damp tunnel. Whitestorm watched as Firepaw willed them on. They were nearing the other side, but a monster was zooming towards them.

"Firepaw, _move_!" Roared Whitestorm, his fur bristling.

Time seemed to grind to a halt as the elders hobbled slowly forwards on stiff, battle-scarred legs. Whitestorm rose to his full height and tensed, ready to run out and ram them to the other side, which was still several rabbit leaps away.

"Come on!" Greypaw urged. An elder stumbled and the thick-pelted grey apprentice had to nudge him back onto his paws.

Firepaw hissed something to Morningflower and fell back to help the elders. Tallstar let out a yowl to run. The approaching monster grew louder and louder...

Firepaw grabbed the nearest elder by the scruff of the neck and dragged him forwards, before turning to haul the second closer to the verge. The monster raced closer.

Firepaw closed his eyes and braced himself.

_Thud!_


	16. Ghosts of the Past

There was an earsplitting screech and a gust of hot, rank breath from the monster as it tried to skid out of the way. It missed Firepaw, but its rump swung around and the white eyes of the monster were suddenly fixed on them.

Whitestorm immediately sank his teeth into Tallstar's scruff and ducked away. An acrid smell stung his eyes and his throat and he crouched in the bushes. The monster wailed in annoyance and sped away, its grey hind paws churning up dust and grit from the Thunderpath.

Whitestorm opened his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest, and looked down. He was lying over Tallstar, whose claws were locked into the ground. The tom's amber eyes were wide with horror.

Whitestorm unlocked his leg from around Tallstar's shoulder and heaved his heavy body off of him. He was unable to contain his breathing. Gasping for breath, Whitestorm crouched on sore paws, staring across the road.

Firepaw and Greypaw had made it across with the elders. Now all eyes were fixed on them.

"T... Tallstar?" Whitestorm meowed. He knew that if the leader had been hurt, they would have to stop to treat his injuries. As the highest ranking cat amongst their group, it would demotivate WindClan if he was unable to travel. "Tallstar, are you okay?"

The long-tailed tom hesitated, then shook himself and looked up. "Yes," breathed the tom. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank StarClan."

Whitestorm's fur flattened against his body. "Thank StarClan indeed."

Whitestorm and Tallstar crossed as soon as possible and gathered the Clan around them on the verge. Aside from a thorn wedged between his toes, Whitestorm was alright. He paused to catch his breath and then turned.

Onewhisker reached forward and touched Whitestorm's nose with his own, then did the same with Firepaw and Greypaw. "You three would have died for us," he murmured. "WindClan will never forget that."

Whitestorm didn't understand why he had done what he did. Pulling Tallstar beneath his own body when the monster could easily have stomped them flat? _Do I think of these cats as friends? _If he did, Whitestorm knew, he would have trouble later on. _I am ThunderClan, not WindClan. These cats are not my Clanmates. As soon as we get back, this allegiance is over-_

"_Whitestorm,"_ Deadfoot meowed sharply.

Whitestorm, snapped out of his thoughts, smoothly lowered his head to gaze at the WindClan deputy. "We're moving on. Come."

The Clan followed the hedgerow along the Thunderpath before turning away to join the track through the woods. Whitestorm felt his energy leave him as the familiar tangle of scents swept over the roof of his mouth. However it also sapped away the last of his energy. It took all of his strength to help Firepaw and Greypaw get the weakest cats over the fence at the far side. When his turn came, it took longer, because his heavy body pulled down at his claws.

"Ouch!" Whitestorm spat, cringing. The wound on his shoulder had started to bleed for the third time and now, as well as having the thorn pulled from his paw, it felt like he'd torn a claw. He licked at the blood that spilled onto the ground.

"Here," meowed Barkface. Whitestorm stiffened as the medicine cat plucked some Dock leaves from the nearby bush and chewed them up. It stung when he pushed them against his paw but Whitestorm didn't complain.

But his belly did.

He ignored it, thanked Barkface and limped to the front of the WindClan cats. Even so, Whitestorm could see how exhausted they all were – they were moving slower than ever. By the time Twolegplace appeared on the horizon the sun had reached it's peak. A couple of thunderheads were rolling over Highstones, swollen and tainted black. Whitestorm nudged Tallstar and inclined his head to the clouds.

"We cannot travel under these conditions," he warned. "The Clan is already exhausted and the last thing we need is to get wet paws. We should find shelter."

The WindClan leader stopped. Firepaw caught up to them, glancing back at Greypaw. Whitestorm could see that both apprentices were running on borrowed energy. Firepaw's eyes were exhausted, but he was determined not to show it.

"I agree," Tallstar nodded. "There's a ditch here. We can shelter in that until sunrise."

Whitestorm was about to agree when Greypaw stepped forward and Firepaw looked worried.

"We might be better sheltering in the hedgerow." The apprentice suggested. "There are rats in these ditches."

Whitestorm glanced down into the ditch. He could detect the scent of rat but he couldn't see them. He felt like he was being weighed down with stones as the rain spattered down upon them.

"Very well," Tallstar agreed, then paced back to announce his decision to the Clan.

Curiously, the great white warrior turned to his apprentices. "How did you know about the rats?" He asked. "I didn't catch the scent because of the chill in the air."

Firepaw exchanged a glance with Greypaw. "We encountered them when we travelled to the Moonstone with Bluestar."

"I see." Whitestorm nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. In fact, I remember you came back covered in rat bites in the middle of the battle." It was back when Ravenpaw had been alive. Bluestar had been severely injured but had fought anyway against ShadowClan invaders in the camp.

_The hedgerow will give us some shelter but I don't think it will completely stop us from getting wet. _Behind him the WindClan cats were discussing hunting patrols. Morningflower was trying to keep her kit dry and warm, but the tiny scrap of fur was getting pelted with rain.

"Morningflower," Whitestorm called. The queen looked up as the tom shouldered his way through the crowd. He grabbed a few dock leaves from the bushes and made a soft bed on the ground for the kit. Morningflower put the kit on the nest.

_I can at least keep him warm, _Whitestorm thought, then hunched himself over the kit. Whitestorm's long, snowy fur was like the lichen at the mouth of Bluestar's den. "Has he fed recently?"

Morningflower looked nervous. "I haven't had time to stop and feed him," she admitted ruefully.

"You can feed him now," Whitestorm smiled reassuringly. "I'll keep him dry."

Morningflower shot him a grateful look while he sat against the rain. By the time she'd settled down and nudged him against her belly, Whitestorm was soaked thoroughly and freezing, but he didn't move.

A ripple shivered through the crowd. Startled, Whitestorm turned around and stared, ears perked as the grass to his left rustled. The WindClan warriors bristled and arched their backs, unsheathing sharp claws. Firepaw and Greypaw, who were with the other apprentices, turned their heads joyfully. There was a familiar scent in the wind, yet Whitestorm couldn't place a name on it.

"Ravenpaw!" Firepaw gasped.

_What? _Whitestorm stretched his head to see over the line of WindClan cats. Firepaw broke rank, rushing towards a tiny speck of black that Whitestorm could make out in the grass. The ginger apprentice nuzzled the plump black cat, whose fur was so sleek that it shed rain like a holly leaf.

Whitestorm backed up and allowed Morningflower to curl around her kit protectively. The soaked white warrior made his way to the front, and stared at the newcomer in disbelief.

_Ravenpaw! But we were told that he was..._

"Do you know this cat?" Snarled Deadfoot.

Firepaw flinched at the hostility in the deputy's voice. Whitestorm stood beside a WindClan elder, his muscles tensed and amber eyes narrowed. "Firepaw?"

"Is he a loner?" Asked Onewhisker.

"He can help us find food," Firepaw meowed quickly. He glanced at the tom, who was staring nervously at the ThunderClan warrior.

Whitestorm stared at the cat. Though his appearance had changed a lot, there was no mistaking it. _This is Ravenpaw. _The young tom had the same white dash on his chest and tail, and his eyes were the same shade of colour. _So he isn't dead after all. Firepaw and Greypaw have lied to me. But why? And why is Ravenpaw so far away from ThunderClan – and so well fed?_

"I know all the best places to hunt around here," the missing apprentice meowed, tearing his gaze away from Whitestorm.

"Why would a loner help us?" Deadfoot demanded.

"Loners have helped us before," meowed Greypaw calmly. "Another loner once saved us from a rat attack near here."

He must be talking about Barley, Whitestorm thought, sitting down cautiously on the ground.

Ravenpaw turned to Tallstar and dipped his head respectfully as he addressed the WindClan leader. They hadn't met before but Ravenpaw had heard about the tom during his old life in ThunderClan.

"Let me help you! I owe my life to Firepaw and Greypaw. If they're travelling with you then you must be friends."

Whitestorm found himself bristling at this. _Friends. _Perhaps, but not for much longer. While he had to admit that the idea sounded appealing, being friends with another Clan, friendships could spawn disloyalty or conflict between warriors.

Whitestorm turned his head. The WindClan warriors were looking at him with guarded wariness rather than open hostility. The rain was falling harder and they looked as skinny as a starved fox, with bony bodies and ribs showing.

"I'll go and find Barley," Ravenpaw meowed. "He will help too."

Tallstar turned to Whitestorm. "Barley?"

"Barley is a loner that lives at the barn near here," the tom replied coolly. "He's a decent cat."

"Can we trust him?" Tallstar asked with as much curiosity as suspicion

"We can."

Tallstar nodded to his warriors. The fur along their backs flattened and then gathered around to wait.

"Greypaw, you help Morningflower. Keep her kit warm." Whitestorm meowed. As the thick-furred grey apprentice walked off towards the queen, Whitestorm rounded on Firepaw. He didn't even disguise his annoyance.

"_What_ is going on here, Firepaw?" He hissed quietly. "You told ThunderClan that Ravenpaw was dead. Why is he alive and living the life of a loner?"

Firepaw tensed visibly. He could sense that hunger and exhaustion was making the senior warrior more edgy than usual, but he was not prepared for the suspicion that he saw lacing the honey-amber eyes.

"I'm sorry we lied to you, Whitestorm," Firepaw whispered, leaning forward to talk quietly so that the WindClan cats would not hear. "Ravenpaw could not stay at ThunderClan. His life was in serious danger."

"The life of a Clan cat is filled with danger," Whitestorm growled. "It's the same for all of us as it is for him. I don't understand why you made us believe that he was dead when he wasn't."

"No," Firepaw shook his head. "Ravenpaw was in more danger. Look, we'll tell you about it when we get somewhere safer, and we don't have as many ears around us. I promise."

Whitestorm wasn't satisfied, but he knew that he couldn't press for answers. The fire-coloured apprentice was right. The matter was business of ThunderClan and he didn't want them to be overheard by nosy apprentices. _If there was a reason for this, they obviously don't want it out in the open. I'll wait and listen before I make my judgements on what to do._

In the end it wasn't up to him what happened. He couldn't force Ravenpaw to return to ThunderClan – especially if Firepaw was right, and the once-sleek apprentice was in enough danger to warrant his... Escape.

Whitestorm was shivering from cold by the time Ravenpaw appeared again, this time with Barley. The black-and-white loner brushed past him, rubbing his nose along his flank as he passed. Whitestorm turned back his aching body to touch his nose to Barley's side as he passed.

They'd met before a couple times, and Whitestorm knew he was a cat who would help them out.

Barley took one look at the dripping cats and meowed, "We need to find you some proper shelter. Follow me!"

The ThunderClan cats got up without hesitation, but the WindClan cats paused, glancing at their leader.

Tallstar blinked at his Clan. "We must trust him," he growled.

Whitestorm heard them all rise and file out after their leader.

The WindClan cats knew that they had to trust the loner, but it was a blow on WindClan's pride to accept help from any other cat. He suspected that they were already tense accepting help from ThunderClan, though less so when they'd first accepted to travel with them. Now, though, they had to rely on two loners and another Clan. _It must be hard. Tallstar already doesn't like what's going on but it's what's best for his Clan._

They were led through the hedge into another field. Whitestorm ordered Greypaw to stick tightly to Morningflower and help to carry her kit, since the apprentice's pelt was thicker than Firepaw's short one. There was an abandoned Twoleg nest in a corner of the field, which Barley approached. It was full of holes and half of the roof was missing.

The WindClan cats stared fearfully at it. "You won't get me in there!" One of the elders protested.

Whitestorm had to agree. It was large, sturdy, sure, but it belonged to Twolegs. He didn't like the idea of taking refuge in such an ugly, broken den.

"It'll give us shelter from the rain," urged Firepaw.

One of the apprentices whispered loudly, "I'm not surprised he wants to hide in a Twoleg nest – once a kittypet, always a kittypet."

Whitestorm noticed Firepaw bristle. The tom's claws dug into the ground. That insult was one that Whitestorm hadn't heard directed at the young apprentice in moons since his initial arrival to ThunderClan. They'd slowly come to accept him, though within the eyes of Tigerclaw and Darkstripe, the prejudice was still obvious. _The last cat to call him a kittypet was Yellowfang, but even she, bad tempered as she is, will not remind him of his roots. Yet again they shift the blame of Firepaw's actions onto his past..._

Whitestorm rushed forward as Firepaw whipped around and glared at the apprentice, his eyes green thorns. "You've spent two moons living in a Twoleg tunnel," spat Bluestar's apprentice. "Does that make you a rat?"

"Firepaw!" Whitestorm growled in warning.

Greypaw stepped between them. "Come on; we're just getting wetter the longer we stand out here."

Tallstar's eyes fell onto his warriors. "We've faced worse than a Twoleg shelter these past few moons. One night here will do us no harm."

But still, even with their leader's words, the WindClan cats were hesitant. They murmured nervously amongst themselves, and Whitestorm found himself sympathising. He still didn't want to go inside.

"Tallstar is right," he meowed gently. "Besides, the kits and elders are freezing out here. We need to get them to safety."

Morningflower, with a glance at the shelter, picked up her kit and padded into the Twoleg shelter. Another queen ushered her kits inside, followed by the elders, who grumbled something to each other angrily. The other cats followed slowly until each cat was pressed against the wall, out of the rain.

Whitestorm shook off his fur and trotted inside. It smelled of damp moss and rotten wood, and there were broken shards of the strange stones that the Twolegs had thrown at him back near the Thunderpath-on-paws. There was a tangle of weeds around one side, dripping rainwater down into a corner of the shelter. The rain still showered through the gaps in the walls but it was drier and more secure than any place outside.

As the WindClan cats explored their temporary nest and settle away from the draft and rain, only Tallstar, Whitestorm, Deadfoot and Barley remained standing.

"What about food?" Deadfoot turned to his leader, uneasy.

Barley spoke. "You should all be resting," he said. "You're all hurt and starved. I'll go out and hunt with Raven-"

Firepaw interrupted the tom before he could finish. "Why don't you two show me and Greypaw the best places to hunt around here?"

"Deadfoot and Onewhisker will go with you," meowed Tallstar.

_Does he still not trust these cats or does he want to prove WindClan is strong enough to take care of itself? _Whitestorm couldn't decide. It wasn't important, though, or really his business.

As the six cats ventured out into the grass, Whitestorm stretched and settled down with the warriors to dry himself. They didn't seem to mind him as they went about drying themselves off, though one of the elders let out a furious spit as an apprentice shook and sprayed water all over his freshly dried pelt.


	17. Ravens Bring Bad Omens

When the hunting party returned, each cat carried a mouthful of fresh-kill. The WindClan cats shared a feast with their new allies that night. Every cat from the eldest to the youngest ate their fill, then curled up together to share tongues in mutual grooming, while outside the wind and rain lashed at the walls of the shelter.

Tallstar and Barley were speaking with one another before the loner rose. "I'm off. Rats to catch!"

Firepaw rose and touched the loner's nose with his own. "Thank you again," he purred. "This is the second time you've helped us."

"Thanks for sending Ravenpaw to me," Barley murmured quietly. "He's turning into a fine ratter. And it's good to share a meal with a fellow cat from time to time."

Whitestorm had been talking to Barkface about his wounds, but hearing the loner leave, he politely excused himself and padded over to the black-and-white loner. "Is he happy here?"

"Ask him yourself," meowed Barley, and with that he turned and disappeared into the night.

Barkface was tending to Tallstar, who had swollen paws. They were rubbed raw from all of the walking that they'd been doing. Whitestorm knew that, like ThunderClan, WindClan's paws were soft because they were cushioned. ThunderClan had the forest floor and WindClan had the open moor, both of which had little rough patches to walk on.

"Tallstar. We'll take it in turns to keep watch tonight, if you like," he offered. He inclined his head towards Greypaw, Firepaw and Ravenpaw.

Tallstar looked up at him gratefully, exhausted. "Thank you," he meowed. Whitestorm dipped his head and padded away to join the group of apprentices. While his offer had been genuine, he was very concerned about what had been going on, and it gave him the chance to sit down and find out what was going on between them.

"Alright, you three," Whitestorm murmured sternly as he settled between the three. "Now it's about time we had a little chat."

Ravenpaw gulped. "Hi, Whitestorm." He meowed. "It's nice to see you again."

Whitestorm curled his streamlined tail around his paws. "And I, you, Ravenpaw," he replied. "I want to hear what's been going on. The last thing I heard about you was that you were dead. I doubt that StarClan sent you back to help Barley maintain the flow of rats and mice in the fields."

Greypaw pressed close against the black tom. "Well," he begun, "Do you promise you won't tell ThunderClan that Ravenpaw's here?"

"Tigerclaw cannot know," Firepaw blurted urgently.

"And why can Tigerclaw not know?" Whitestorm asked. "I think he'd be relieved to hear that his apprentice is alive."

"No!" Ravenpaw bristled. "He wouldn't."

_What's going on here? _"Explain."

Greypaw took a calming breath, then started from the beginning. Whitestorm patiently listened as they explained how Oakheart had been killed by Redtail at the battle of Sunningrocks, going on to tell him that Tigerclaw had killed Redtail, and that Ravenpaw had seen the great tabby do it.

"Tigerclaw's been trying to turn the Clan against Ravenpaw for moons," Greypaw hissed quietly with an anxious glance towards WindClan. "He hinted that Ravenpaw had allied himself with Brokenstar and he'd informed them that Bluestar and Tigerclaw had left camp when we went to the Moonstone."

Firepaw nodded. "We overheard him talking to Darkstripe and Longtail, saying that Ravenpaw was a traitor."

Whitestorm blinked. "But why would Tigerclaw kill Redtail?"

"Because he wanted to be deputy," Ravenpaw told him, his white-tipped tail twitching. "But Bluestar chose Lionheart instead. When Lionheart died in the battle with ShadowClan, Bluestar appointed Tigerclaw as her deputy, and he finally got what he wanted."

Whitestorm's mind was reeling. All of the information the three apprentices had given him was consistent, with no errors at all, and fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. _It certainly explains some of his behaviour, _he realised. _I've known Tigerclaw since we were both in the nursery and he is very ambitious. His mentor was my father, Thistleclaw, and he was very..._

Whitestorm shook his head. Something did not make sense. "Hold on a moment," he meowed carefully, "Are you saying that Redtail killed Oakheart over Sunningrocks? You do realise this has very serious implications that this has on Redtail's honour, don't you?"

Ravenpaw looked nervous. His paws shuffled against the ground and he stared at them. "Clan cats die all of the time in battle," he reasoned. "I'm not saying he intentionally took Oakheart's life but maybe...-" Ravenpaw faltered and looked around, then lowered his voice into a desperate whisper "-maybe Oakheart died by accident. I didn't see his body but I know what I saw! There was a loud rumble of rocks. He ran away from the river, into Tigerclaw, and Tigerclaw killed him!"

_Cats do die by accident, but Redtail was a careful cat. These youngsters didn't see Oakheart's body so we can't be sure how he died. It is possible that what they're saying is true. After all, even the most careful cats make mistakes._

"Tigerclaw is a great warrior," Whitestorm began. Firepaw opened his mouth to speak, but Whitestorm cut him off. "You can't deny that his strength is feared, even in ShadowClan. He is a great warrior – one who I've known since I was a kit." Leaning forward, he meowed quietly, "But what you're saying is that Tigerclaw is a traitor. He is the deputy of ThunderClan, and-"

"That makes him more dangerous!" Ravenpaw whispered, glancing again at the WindClan cats. "He _cannot_ be trusted, Whitestorm!"

"I understand what you're telling me. But let me ask you something: out of the three of you, only Ravenpaw was at the battle. While all three of you are convinced that Tigerclaw is dangerous, to me... Well, I don't doubt your word, young Ravenpaw, but what Firepaw and Greypaw know is only based on what you saw."

"Are you saying that he's a liar?" Greypaw bristled.

Whitestorm shook his head. "I'm only saying that your point _could be_ bias. I mean we all know here that Tigerclaw is a bit of a grouch and that he treats Firepaw badly because of his kittypet roots. Firepaw," he turned to Bluestar's apprentice, "You of all cats should know about judging cats based on their past or actions. Do you have any evidence that I could look at that could prove your point? Because I can't accuse Tigerclaw of treason to ThunderClan based on one eye witness. Bluestar cannot charge him with what you have. If you're serious about this, I need more."

"More proof?" Greypaw asked.

Whitestorm nodded.

He couldn't believe that Tigerclaw had killed Redtail. Tigerclaw was capable of taking on a nine-lived Clan leader without blinking, Whitestorm knew, but to take the life of a Clanmate? Redtail had been a respected warrior and Bluestar's first appointed deputy – she had trusted him with all of her secrets, and Whitestorm had been a close friend of his.

_His daughter, Sandpaw, is my apprentice._

When Bluestar had given him Sandpaw to train, Redtail had encouraged him to teach her as much as she could learn. Redtail had trusted him to teach his daughter. Sandpaw was nearing the end of her training but Whitestorm still thought there was a lot for her to learn. Unlike her father, Sandpaw had a closed mind, probably affected by her youth and by Dustpaw, who was snarky. Dustpaw's brother was Ravenpaw, but because Ravenpaw had been very timid, Dustpaw had tried to refute any claim that the tom had been his brother.

_If Dustpaw could see him now, _he thought,_ I don't think he would try so hard to deny it. Ravenpaw has grown and his confidence has become so great I would have hardly recognised him if it weren't for his pelt._

"We could ask RiverClan," Greypaw thought. "Find out how Oakheart died. They'd have found his body at Sunningrocks, right? They'd know how he died."

Whitestorm gazed steadily at Greypaw. "You could, but that would be a dangerous move, Greypaw. Redtail's death is still fresh in ThunderClan, as Oakheart's will be in RiverClan. To pry into their business could ruffle some fur."

"But we'll know the truth," Greypaw argued.

Firepaw turned to the senior warrior. "And you can keep an eye on Tigerclaw, can't you?" He asked. "If you two are close enough, he wouldn't suspect anything."

The thought of spying on his Clan deputy was both disturbing yet exciting. Whitestorm's paws prickled with the very thought of it. _It'll be interesting, to say the least. And what harm can come of keeping an eye over a close friend? _"I can," Whitestorm murmured. "We'll see. And Ravenpaw, from this, I assume that you don't want to return to ThunderClan."

"ThunderClan was my birthplace," Ravenpaw meowed, "And I'm grateful for them for teaching me so much, but this is my home now, with Barley."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll keep your secret, youngsters. Besides, you seem happy enough here with Barley. I wouldn't want to separate you from him. But you are welcome in ThunderClan if ever you do decide to return."

Ravenpaw's eyes flashed gratefully. After a moment of silence, the former apprentice rose. "You must all be tired," he meowed. "Get some rest. I'll keep watch tonight. I can rest tomorrow." He planted a lick on both of his friends' foreheads and paused at Whitestorm.

Apprentices didn't tend to share that kind of contact with those who were not close friends or their mentors. While he had never judged Ravenpaw for his timidness, he had never really got that close. He was more of a mentor to the tom, having encouraged him or talked to him when he needed to.

But Whitestorm knew Ravenpaw, though born a ThunderClan cat, was no longer one. 'Once a kittypet, always a kittypet' was not a saying that he abided by or believed in at all. A leopard could not change its spots, nor could a rose change it's colour, but a kittypet was neither a pelt nor a colour. They were cats, and cats had the potential to change countless times, like the weather. They could adapt.

Reaching over with his paw, he pulled the ebony apprentice against him and planted a few rasping licks over his ear, purring quietly. "I do mind that I was lied to, even though you had a good reason. But I don't mind you staying as long as you're happy here with Barley. We might not be Clanmates now, but you'll always have a friend in me."

Ravenpaw sniffed. "Thanks, Whitestorm," he purred, nuzzling into the white warrior's coat. When he finally pulled away, he smiled at all three ThunderClan warriors and then padded to the entrance, sat down, and stared out into the pouring rain to guard them as they slept.

Whitestorm watched Ravenpaw for a moment before he turned back to Firepaw and Greypaw. "Get some rest, you two. The chances are we'll be rising at dawn to hunt and finish the last stretch back to the moorlands." The white tom rose, his legs shaking slightly and sore, circled the two apprentices and then curled up around them, curling his tail around the two.

_So much has happened this day, _he thought. _We found WindClan, convinced them to return. We've travelled to the barn and found Ravenpaw alive, and I've learned about a possible traitor within ThunderClan. _If Tigerclaw did turn out to be plotting against ThunderClan, and had indeed murdered Redtail in an attempt to become deputy, Whitestorm wasn't sure what would happen. His aunt seemed to trust Tigerclaw a lot, as did ThunderClan. _He's a very powerful cat, formidable for any warrior in battle. It will shake ThunderClan to the core if these accusations are true._

Whitestorm lowered his head to the ground and closed his eyes. He had almost drifted off into a well earned sleep when Snowfur's words echoed in his mind. Whitestorm's eyes shot open in alarm.

"_Fire alone can save our Clan."_


	18. Return to WindClan, Unnecessary Deaths?

Whitestorm padded back into the Twoleg shelter by the time the WindClan cats started to awaken. After remembering Snowfur's prophecy about fire, he'd been unable to sleep. He'd just found himself staring at the prone bodies of the WindClan cats, listening to the wind rattling the loose glass, as the two apprentices slept nestled up against his warm fur.

After making sure they were asleep, he'd slipped away, going for a moonlit walk as soon as the rain stopped. Ravenpaw had warned him about the rats but hadn't stopped him from exploring a bit. He did it whenever he needed to clear his mind, but the moonlight walk had quickly turned into a moonlight hunt.

Each catch he'd made he buried, hoping that Barley wouldn't mind him hunting in his 'territory'. It had taken several trips to move his catch to the Twoleg shelter. He figured they would need the food to give them strength – that and he was still hungry, even after the mouse that he'd eaten the night before.

Tallstar had roused from his slumber first, having heard him returning with the last of his load. The black-and-white leader graciously eyed the growing pile.

Whitestorm dropped a mouse at Tallstar's paws and inclined his head towards the fresh kill pile. "This is for your Clan," he murmured.

"Thank you," the leader purred, sitting up and giving his ruffled chest fur a few quick licks. The tom paused, then looked around. "Where has the loner gone?"

"He went back to the barn with Barley to rest," replied Whitestorm, curling his tail around his paws. "Now that we've crossed the Thunderpath, we're near Highstones. Would you like to stop at the Moonstone to speak with StarClan?"

Tallstar seemed to consider it. "It's only been a few dawns since the full moon," he recalled. Whitestorm could see the uncertainty in the tom's eyes.

"You don't have to," he meowed.

"I won't." Tallstar decided. "At least not yet. We should return to WindClan's territory."

"What will you do if you find RiverClan or ShadowClan hunting on our way back?" He asked. "Are your warriors strong enough to fight?"

Tallstar gazed at him steadily. "We will fight to defend our borders," he growled. "If we see any trespassers on our land, we will show them that WindClan is not to be pushed around!"

Whitestorm purred contently. "Good. Would you like me to wake your Clan?"

"Yes," Tallstar stretched each of his hind legs in turn. "And please tell Deadfoot to distribute food evenly. Tell him that the queens and elders are to be fed first."

"Yes, Tallstar."

Firepaw was staring up through a gap in the roof and watched the grey clouds as they were whisked away over the horizon. Whitestorm was crouched by the queens, offering a mouse to Morningflower. One ear swivelled curiously around as Barkface padded over to the apprentice and followed his gaze.

"If you need any help, I'll tell Greypaw and Firepaw to walk with you and help you carry your kit," Whitestorm meowed. "Speaking of your kit, what is his name? Tallstar told me you only kitted recently."

Morningflower lovingly watched the tiny bundle of fur. Her kit was nuzzling into her belly, suckling hungrily. "Well, I haven't named him yet," she admitted. "I would have but there's been a lot of stress amongst the Clan." She paused and reached down as the kit sneezed, nudging him closer to her belly. "I'll give him a name once we're back at the camp."

Suddenly there was a curious yowl from Barkface. The short-tailed tom was staring up at the sky, his brown fur bristling. All cats fell into silence. The air cracked uneasily with tension, but no cat dared move. Barkface's eyes were wide and glassy.

_What's going on?_

"The clouds are stained with blood!" The medicine cat rasped. "It is a sign from our ancestors. There is trouble ahead. This day shall bring an unnecessary death."

For a moment, none of the cats moved or spoke. Morningflower was tense beside her, staring at her kit, frightened.

"Any of the Clans could see those clouds. We can't be sure that the message is for us."

Whitestorm settled slightly at that, but Morningflower was still unconvinced. "He- He must have a chill," she meowed anxiously. "Whitestorm, fetch Barkface!"

Whitestorm didn't believe that the message was referring to Morningflower's kit, but even so, he backed away to find the medicine cat.

"Whatever StarClan has planned for us, today we return to our home. I can smell more rain in the air. It's time we set off."

Barkface rushed off to tend to Morningflower and her kit. Whitestorm was thankful for Tallstar's practical tone. The last thing they needed was hysteria at some ominous prophecy.

Once Barkface had diagnosed Morningflower's kit, Tallstar led the way out into the chilly morning air. The breeze brought promise of more rain, which was bad for the Clan cats, if it came before they reached the camp.

"Firepaw, Greypaw," Whitestorm summoned, glancing over his shoulder at the two toms. "Scout ahead. Check for dogs, Twolegs, rats, or anything that could pose a threat." He knew that WindClan was stronger now that they'd eaten a bit, but they were still too weak to fight off attackers. The two apprentices raced off, taking it in turns to run back and tell the Clan if the way was clear, or warning them to stay back while a Twoleg passed by with a dog.

After a while, Whitestorm took point, sending Firepaw back to report back to Tallstar. It was then that he caught a stray scent in the air. The fresh scent of dog.

"Greypaw, warn Tallstar to get back," he ordered. As Greypaw raced away, Whitestorm heard paws thundering from nearby to his left. The white tom jumped into the bushes and crouched there, his fur bristling as the dog burst out of the heather a moment later. It wasn't too big; the creature had a pointed snout with black and gold fur and long, pointed ears. Brown eyes scanned across the path as the dog listened to its surroundings. Several heartbeats passed. Then it's eyes landed on him and it leaned forward slightly, tilting it's head.

It growled. Whitestorm's fur bristled and his eyes glistened with rage. The dog took a curious step forward, head lowered to the ground, inhaling the scent. He saw a wisp of silver in the distance. It was Runningpaw – a WindClan apprentice who had come to see if the way was clear.

The dog saw her.

Runningpaw shrieked.

Whitestorm watched in horror as she charged into the heather. With an excited bark, the dog shot after her. The white warrior burst from his hiding place and ran after the two. "Runningpaw, climb! Dogs can't climb!" He shouted, hoping she would hear him.

The dog chased her towards Highstones, as did Whitestorm. He knew a WindClan patrol was chasing him as well, because he could hear the battle yowls ringing in the distance. The rippling pelt of the dog burned brightly against the grey clouds.

Whitestorm stumbled over a log and hissed quietly. Droplets of blood fell onto the ground. _What is it with me getting hurt recently! _He thought, shaking his head in frustration. _I'm never usually this clumsy! _

"Whitestorm!"

Onewhisker bounded over to him, clearing the log in a single bound. Tallstar, Greypaw and Mudclaw – a mottled brown tom – were with him.

"Down the path!" He grunted. "Runningpaw's being chased by a dog! You must help her!"

"What about you?" Greypaw asked.

"_Go!"_

"Quickly!" Tallstar added and raced down the path. Whitestorm watched as the WindClan cats rushed along the narrow trail. Once he'd caught his bearings, he followed, but it was too late.

Runningpaw lay on the floor, blood pooling around her body. The dog was gone, and Whitestorm assumed the beast must have crashed through the bracken and run away after its master.

Tallstar was sat at the head of the apprentice, head bowed, and was murmuring something to her.

Whitestorm rushed over and froze. "Is she alright?"

Greypaw padded around the gathering of WindClan cats. "I think it's too late," he meowed quietly.

Suddenly Tallstar lifted his head.

"I, Tallstar, ask my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice." Whitestorm felt a chill run through him. "She has learned the warrior code and given up her life in the service of her Clan. Let StarClan receive her as a warrior."

Tallstar paused. Whitestorm clenched his jaws and swallowed hard. Barkface's warning rung in his ears.

"_This day shall bring an unnecessary death."_

"She will be known as Runningbrook."

Runningbrook twitched, her eyes locking on something past Whitestorm. Even so, he felt as though she was staring right at him. Tallstar touched his nose to the she-cat and Whitestorm bowed his head respectfully.

Greypaw bit his lip, not sure what to say.

"Runningbrook!" Mudclaw called. "Runningbrook!"

"Runningbrook!" Whitestorm echoed softly. Greypaw lifted his voice up into the air.

The rest of WindClan skidded into the clearing, releasing shocked howls as the light faded from the warrior's eyes. Firepaw weaved around Deadfoot and stared at Whitestorm.

He felt Tallstar's eyes piercing him briefly, though he didn't take his eyes from Runningbrook's body. The WindClan tom picked up the she-cat in his jaws and started to drag her back towards the Clan.

"We will bury her at camp," he announced. "And sit vigil for her there. We take turns carrying her. Tornear, she was your apprentice. You shall carry her first."

Whitestorm felt as though he had been running for moons. StarClan had issued a warning and they had failed to heed it. Now the blood of a WindClan cat had been spilled needlessly.

He knew that even if he hadn't stumbled, he might not have reached her in time. It was just bad timing that she appeared when she did. _I told them to stay back! Why did they send an apprentice forward?_

"Hurry up!" Tallstar called.

The WindClan cats wordlessly obeyed their leader, plodding on heavy paws in spite of their night's rest.

By sunhigh, dark clouds had gathered once more and the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. Mudclaw and Onewhisker took Runningbrook's body from Tornear as the tom fell back to help Morningflower and the other queens. Whitestorm limped through a hedge, where he recognised the red dirt track that led away from Twoleg territory and into WindClan's hunting grounds. Whitestorm's head drooped and he felt a body brush against his. As he tilted his head around, he saw Barkface pressed up against him, trying to get a closer look at his paw.

"I can give you something once we're back at camp," he meowed, his voice low. "I understand you three might be eager to get back to your own camps, but I'd like to keep you in my den so I can have a look at you."

Whitestorm's ears pricked. "You have your own warriors to look after," he meowed. "It's just a torn claw. It's not life threatening."

"And my name is Mousebrain," Barkface retorted. "Don't try fooling me, Whitestorm. You've been favouring your right side ever since we left the Twoleg shelter at dawn. You've opened up some of your wounds again, haven't you?" Barkface paused. "You've been unusually quiet. Did you even get any sleep last night?"

Whitestorm sighed. "No, I didn't, and yes, I opened up my shoulder again. The only wounds that opened up were the bites on my shoulders. I think one might be infected."

Barkface nodded. "In which case you can send your apprentices on without you. I want you to stay overnight at the camp so I can treat your wounds."

Whitestorm found himself sagging with relief. "Thank you, Barkface."

The Clan squeezed through a gap of dripping leaves that Whitestorm remembered coming through. There was a ditch which they had to leap and a track to cross, but they pushed on without complaining. As they moved through the hedgerow on the other side, their pace had quickened.

Whitestorm realised that the WindClan cats recognised this part of the uplands, because they didn't need Firepaw and Greypaw to lead them.

They scaled a long slope that led back to the uplands and filed down the other side. Whitestorm found his body aching as more and more rain piled onto his body. Barkface slowed as well, despite his own eagerness to get home.

"So tell me, Whitestorm," the tom meowed. "You mentioned that Spottedleaf died. Are you worried about ThunderClan needing a medicine cat?"

The white ThunderClan tom blinked the sleep from his eyes. "No, we already have a new medicine cat."

Barkface's ears pricked. "Who is it?"

"Yellowfang."

The short-tailed medicine cat's eyes glittered with surprise. "But Yellowfang is of ShadowClan."

"Was of ShadowClan," he corrected, whiskers twitching. "She was chased out by Brokenstar and has since joined ThunderClan." The she-cat hadn't been trusted at first, but Whitestorm got the feeling that she would quickly be accepted. Though irritable at times, she was wise, strong and experienced. Loyal to the Clan that treated her right. He had seen a tight bond form between Bluestar and Yellowfang already.

As the Clan neared the top of the slope, some warriors streaked ahead again. They stood proud as silhouettes against the story sky, while the wind sent ripples through their fur. Ahead stretched their old hunting grounds.

Whitestorm saw the dip in the ground and the tangle of thick gorse that stood around the camp, and almost fell asleep on his paws then and there. Morningflower took her kit from Tornear and hurried carefully towards the hollow. Tallstar flicked his tail and three warriors raced forwards to escort her as she disappeared over the edge and down into the camp.

The WindClan leader paused to speak with Barkface while the rest of his warriors rushed into the sheltering bushes below. He turned to Firepaw and Greypaw, his eyes shining.

"My Clan is grateful for your help," he meowed. "You have all proved that you are warriors worthy of StarClan. WindClan has returned to its rightful home, and it is time for you to return to yours."

Barkface stepped forward towards Whitestorm. He breathed a sigh of relief as the medicine cat guided him down towards the camp. Firepaw and Greypaw watched them go.

"What's Barkface doing with Whitestorm?" Greypaw asked.

Tallstar watched the white warrior limp down the slope. "Barkface tells me that Whitestorm is suffering from exhaustion and infection, and that it wouldn't be wise for him to travel any further right now. He will stay here until he is fit to travel once more, and then he will return to ThunderClan."

"We understand," Firepaw nodded. "We'll tell Bluestar. Should we tell a patrol to meet up with you at Fourtrees tomorrow?"

Tallstar shook his head. "I will have my own warriors escort him back, just to be sure. That will give me the chance to thank Bluestar myself. But there may be hunting parties from other Clans roaming on my land still. Deadfoot and Onewhisker will escort you to Fourtrees."

Firepaw bowed his head. "Thank you, Tallstar."


	19. Rest for the Weary

Whitestorm glanced around the clearing. Despite the rain, the warriors had already begun pulling the shredded moss out of the dens while the apprentices rushed off to fetch more. He was amazed, but not surprised, at how each cat worked together to complete the tasks as quickly as possible.

"Your apprentices are on their way home." The tired white warrior jumped and turned as Tallstar crouched beside him. "The queens are gathered in my den over there. Why don't you go and join them?"

As much as the thought appealed to him, Whitestorm wasn't ready to rest just yet. As tired as he was, he felt like he needed to help out. "I'd rather help your Clan to repair the dens," he murmured. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You've done enough," Tallstar said, his voice patient and sympathetic. "You've fought Brokenstar, driven him out, hunted for us, saved me and brought us home, and even laid our dead to rest. I think you need a rest."

Whitestorm's paws pricked with anxiety. "You're sure there's nothing I can do?"

Tallstar nodded, and Whitestorm found himself being escorted into the leader's den with the queens. He mentally joked to himself about how he must look like a queen straight after kitting. If Tallstar was telling him to get some rest, the tom clearly saw he was exhausted.

Whitestorm was groggily called back to the waking world, unsure of when he had even left it to begin with. _Is it time for the dawn patrol already? _He felt like he needed to sleep for another moon, but as the scents of WindClan flowed over him, he lifted his head.

It was Deadfoot, the WindClan deputy.

"Whitestorm, wake up! Barkface wants you in his den. Yellowfang and Tigerclaw are here. Can you walk?"

_I'm not an elder, _the tom grumbled and heaved himself to his paws, stretching. "Has the rain stopped?"

"No," Deadfoot meowed, his tone unusually dark. Whitestorm drowsily staggered out of the den and into a horrid drizzle which soaked the entire camp. His eyes pried open slightly. The clearing was empty for the most part, but there were warriors assembled at the base of the smooth, wind-worn rock that he'd seen when he'd buried Harefoot.

As he watched, they broke apart and dashed off to re-mark the borders and gather up some prey. Deadfoot guided him towards a hole beneath the gorse wall. Whitestorm felt the walls scrape against his flanks as he dragged his paws inside.

Upon seeing the white tom enter, Tigerclaw looked stunned. "Whitestorm?"

His white pelt was dirty, stained with both blood and dust with heather and gorse tangled in his pelt. His amber eyes were dull and he grunted.

Yellowfang, on the other paw, looked outraged. "Whitestorm, I told you what would happen if you hurt yourself!"

"Leave him alone, Yellowfang," Barkface growled. "He's been through enough. You can teach him a lesson later! Now lie him down over here and let him sleep."

Whitestorm slowly wondered why Tigerclaw had bothered to travel through to WindClan territory. As his heavy eyelids drooped over his eyes, he could see a few piles of fresh herbs, and realised that Bluestar must have ordered them sent. It was a friendly move, one of reassurance, but Whitestorm couldn't help but feel that she was trying to get close to the warriors. Was she trying to ally herself with WindClan?

"I'll report back to Bluestar. When can we expect him to return to ThunderClan?" Tigerclaw's voice was dark.

"Tomorrow at the earliest," Barkface replied. "He's been awake for at least two nights in a row and travelled for as much time. I want to make sure he's well rested before I send him back to you."

"Why are you helping a ThunderClan cat?" The great tabby growled.

Yellowfang answered him. "A medicine cat takes no sides, Tigerclaw. If some cat needs medical aid, we provide it, regardless of Clan."

Barkface nodded "And besides, we owe him our lives. He brought us home. It's the least we can do."

Whitestorm tiredly gazed up at the ThunderClan deputy, who was staring at him. He couldn't read the tom's expression, but their eyes met for a heartbeat before he nodded and backed away.

"I'll take my leave. When he's ready, I trust you'll escort him home?"

"Yes."

The last thing before Whitestorm dozed off into an heavy sleep was that something had happened. Tigerclaw's tone was unusually grim and serious, and even Yellowfang looked perturbed. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes and sighed. He'd worry about it later.


	20. Return to Duty

Bluestar woke him with a prod. "Whitestorm. Up you get."

The tom lifted his head and blinked. "Is it time for the ceremony already?"

"Yes."

Whitestorm watched as his aunt ducked out of the den, then followed her. It had been almost a full moon since WindClan's return. Firepaw and Greypaw had been made into warriors – Fireheart and Greystripe – and it was time for his own apprentice to receive her warrior name.

Weak sunlight filtered into the camp, stealing the chill away from the soft sand beneath his paws. As the two padded across the clearing, Bluestar leaned forward towards him. Whitestorm couldn't help but feel a pang of pride that his apprentice was finally becoming a warrior.

"I was thinking about names," she whispered, glancing over at the apprentice. "How about Sandstorm?"

Whitestorm's tail lifted. "That sounds strong and swift. I think she'll like that one. And Dustpaw?"

"Well," Bluestar padded up to the base of the Highrock, her whiskers twitching with amusement. "I don't want to name him Duststripe after his mentor, so I was thinking something simpler. Maybe Dustfur?"

"Dustpelt," Whitestorm offered.

"Fur, tail and pelt seem to go with all names," Bluestar sighed. "Sometimes it's hard to decide. But there's nothing distinctive about Dustpaw's tail. It's either fur or pelt."

"What sounds better? Sandstorm and Dustfur. Sandstorm and Dustpelt."

Bluestar paused. "You're right," she decided. "I'll announce it to the Clan."

Whitestorm nodded.

The ceremony went smoothly without any hitches, and as soon as their names were announced, Whitestorm's voice boomed like thunder over the rest of his Clan's. Sandstorm moved to sit beside him, and his eyes glowed. "Well done, Sandstorm! I'm proud to have called you my apprentice."

Sandstorm's expression was filled with happiness. If a cat could die from that, Whitestorm knew that she would probably have done so ten times over. "It's all thanks to you, Whitestorm!"

"No," he shook his head. "You put in all of the effort. I just taught you what you needed to know to grow. ThunderClan needs more warriors, and with no doubt, you'll be a valuable addition."

He chuckled and lifted his head as Sandstorm nuzzled into him, relishing in the warm mantra of her Clanmate's call. After a moment, Tigerclaw pushed his way through the crowd, his amber eyes unreadable.

"Sandstorm," he meowed, nodding his approval. "With Whitestorm having trained you, I expect great things of you." The tabby warrior pressed his nose to the ginger she-cat's shoulder gently and then padded over to Dustpelt. "Serve ThunderClan well."

"Thank you, Tigerclaw," Sandstorm beamed. Her chest fur fluffed up with pride and she moved to join her brother, who had also received Tigerclaw's "blessing".

Whitestorm watched the ThunderClan deputy gathered up a patrol to leave. As the tabby passed Fireheart and his new apprentice, Cinderpaw, he leaned forward and sneered something. Fireheart stiffened, an expression of annoyance growing on his face. The ginger tom growled something and turned away, heading for the dirtplace tunnel.

Bluestar appeared at his side. "Whitestorm. I want you to take a border patrol towards ShadowClan and revive the scent markers there. Take whoever you want."

It felt good to be home again, Whitestorm thought, dipping his head respectfully to his aunt before striding over to gather up Fireheart and Longtail.

On his way there, however, he was met by Tigerclaw.

"Whitestorm," the tabby greeted, "Now that you've no apprentice, that frees up some more of your time. Care to join me for some fresh kill after you return from your patrol?"

Whitestorm's whiskers twitched with surprise. Why would Tigerclaw want to share prey with him? Glancing over towards the dirtplace tunnel, he signalled to Fireheart with a flick of his tail and then turned back to Tigerclaw. "I will join you. Is there a reason?"

Tigerclaw looked at Fireheart as the ginger tom stopped beside Whitestorm. "No. Just for old times sake." He meowed. "Mousefur, Swiftpaw and Runningwind are patrolling near the WindClan border. Where are you going?"

"I'm taking Fireheart, Cinderpaw and Longtail to the ShadowClan border to strengthen the scent markers," he replied, flexing his legs briefly before straightening out. "Is there something we should know about?"

"No," Tigerclaw muttered. His ear swivelled around as Halftail crossed the clearing toward him. "Make sure you don't scent Brokenstar or any of his allies. If you do, don't follow the trail. You should come back here and gather up a larger patrol."

"Do you believe that Brokenstar may still be around?" Whitestorm queried. _I wouldn't be surprised. Brokenstar is still ambitious and will seek revenge for his exile._

But Tigerclaw didn't look worried. "Yes."

"Tigerclaw," Halftail called, his voice hoarse. "My joints are stiff. Come over here, would you?"

The deputy growled something under his breath and prowled off to join the elder.

Whitestorm turned to Fireheart. "Fetch your apprentice and let's go." He ordered. "We'll be leaving immediately."


	21. Prophecy of Storms, Prophecy of Fire

With nothing to do, Yellowfang had retreated to her den. Somehow she felt uneasy, as though something was going to happen, but she wasn't sure what. All of her herbs had been restocked and reorganised and she'd eaten a short while before. The flat-faced grey medicine cat stared absently at the den wall. _What's going on?_

"Yellowfang," Bluestar called. The blue-grey Clan leader stepped inside quietly. "May I speak with you?"

Yellowfang flicked her tail. "What do you need, Bluestar?"

Bluestar sat down near Yellowfang's nest. "I don't know. I just felt like I needed to come and see you." The she-cat's tone was uncertain. "Yellowfang, has StarClan spoken to you recently? About the Fire prophecy that I told you about?"

Yellowfang drew her tongue over her lips. "No. StarClan has been silent for some time now, Bluestar. Even at half-moon, they barely told me anything." Moving over to the small drinking pool, she bent down to take a sip. It was at that time that she saw a reflection that wasn't her own grace the pool.

With a startled, quiet yowl, she peered closer, narrowing her eyes.

Bluestar was by her side in an instant, staring in at the pool with her.

"_Yellowfang," _hissed a brilliant silver she-cat with glowing blue irises. The wind whistled around her ears, and somehow she could hear words, as though someone right beside her was speaking to her. _"Do not ignore the thunderhead. It will shine at the front of the Clan like a beacon of light, bringing hope for every cat."_

Then the vision faded. The beautiful silver cat blurred out, revealing her own reflection in the pool. Yellowfang continued to stare for a few heartbeats.

"Yellowfang?" Bluestar meowed, gazing down at the pool. "Did you see something?"

Yellowfang paused, swallowing. The unease that had been there before was gone, replaced with a calm sense of euphoria.

"StarClan has spoken to me," she murmured at last. Taking a calming breath, she closed her eyes. "A silver she-cat appeared to me. She said 'Do not ignore the thunderhead. It will shine at the front of the Clan like a beacon of light, bringing hope for every cat'."

She turned to the Clan leader and saw confusion in the grey cat's eyes. "Don't ignore the thunderhead?"

"Thunderheads appear at the beginning of every storm," Yellowfang meowed. "A thunderhead will shine for ThunderClan like a beacon..."

Bluestar stared at her paws. "What could it mean?" She hissed through his teeth. "A storm is coming?"

"No, it sounds more like it is talking about a cat," the medicine cat bit her lip.

"Talking about a cat..." Bluestar's ears perked urgently. "She was just made a warrior today. Could it be talking about Sandstorm?"

A thunderhead was noticeable. It foretold danger, moving high above the land like a guardian. You couldn't ignore it either, because it was so large, and could not be controlled.

It would make sense, since her name was based on a storm, and because she was stubborn. But she was not wise, and wasn't as perceptive as some cats. Being so young, Yellowfang wasn't sure if the vision had been about her. "It's too soon to make conclusions," she meowed. "StarClan could have shared that with me about any cat. I suggest you keep an eye out, Bluestar. Now we have two prophecies to decipher."

_And I already have an idea about the first._


	22. The Joy Of Apprentices

The white warrior gazed steadily at Fireheart as he tried to rein in Cinderpaw. The energetic grey apprentice was straying from the patrol, sniffing at the plants curiously and running on ahead. Whitestorm could tell that the apprentice was excited, but she wasn't listening to her mentor at all.

"Whitestorm, how do I get her to listen?" Fireheart asked. He was flustered because he couldn't even control his apprentice, and especially because Whitestorm was with him.

From experience of seeing new mentors work, Whitestorm knew what the problem was. "You're nervous," he murmured quietly. "Use a firm tone and tell Cinderpaw to come back and stay with the group."

"Having trouble controlling your apprentice?" Longtail sneered. "You're barely a warrior yourself. I'm not surprised."

Whitestorm slowed slightly and leaned forward, pausing to whisper into the pale tabby's ear. "You were the same when you started training Swiftpaw. Fireheart is trying his best. If I hear you talk down on him, Longtail, you'll be cleaning out the elders den in front of the rest of ThunderClan. Is that understood?"

Longtail gulped and stopped. "You wouldn't!"

Whitestorm remained expressionless, looking directly at the smaller cat. The message sunk in quickly, to his relief, because his blue eyes lowered submissively., Whitestorm padded forwards to rejoin Fireheart.

"Cinderpaw!" Fireheart called. The grey apprentice lifted her head and looked back towards him, ears angled forwards. "Come back here and stay with me!"

A sullen look fell over Cinderpaw. "But I want to explore!"

"We'll have time to explore later, Cinderpaw. Remember what I told you about listening to what warriors tell you?"

"Yes, but..." Cinderpaw glanced back through a bush and lowered her tail.

Whitestorm angled his ear back towards Longtail, then asked, "Have you scented something unusual, Cinderpaw?"

"Well, no..."

Whitestorm carefully stepped over a fallen tree trunk. "Unless you have found something that you don't think should be around, you should listen to your mentor and not argue. Fall back in line and don't stray again."

Cinderpaw dipped her head and obeyed.

Whitestorm turned to Fireheart. "Did you notice how strong I came across when talking to her?" Despite the warrior's grateful glance and silent nod, he wasn't sure he completely understood. Whitestorm lifted his head. "Longtail. Take Cinderpaw and go on ahead. Scout the area. That'll give Cinderpaw some time to 'explore'."

Once the two had disappeared, he turned his attention back to Fireheart. "Are you struggling with Cinderpaw, Fireheart?"

"No!" Fireheart stammered. "No, I'm doing okay with her. She just..."

Licking a large white paw, Whitestorm murmured, "Bluestar gave Cinderpaw to you for a reason, Fireheart. She trusts you to train her to become a warrior for ThunderClan."

"But what if I'm not ready?" Fireheart blurted.

Whitestorm stopped and stared at the tom.

Fireheart's claws pricked the ground. "What if I'm not ready to train an apprentice? I think Longtail was right. I don't think I'm the right cat for the job. I think maybe she should have chosen some other cat."

Whitestorm sat down on the ground. "Are you saying this because of yourself, or because of Cinderpaw?"

Fireheart shook his head. "Both? I think it's me. I don't know!"

"Cinderpaw is an energetic apprentice, Fireheart." meowed Whitestorm calmly. "Like while hunting, you cannot expect a mouse to just walk up to your paws and wait to be caught, an apprentice won't readily accept the training that you have to offer."

"What are you saying?"

Whitestorm blinked. "I'm saying that you need to earn Cinderpaw's respect. She won't listen to you unless you show her that you can teach her."

Fireheart's worry did not subside. "So how do I teach her that I'm a good warrior?"

"I'll help you."

They rejoined Longtail and Cinderpaw at the ShadowClan border as Longtail was checking for faded scent markers. Nudging Fireheart forward, Whitestorm hid within the bushes and crouched there. Suddenly he began to move, making the bush rustle very loudly. Cinderpaw's ears pricked and she stared at the bush in surprise.

"Something's moving in there!"

Longtail snorted. "Don't be silly. It's just the wind- Hey, something _is _in there!"

Fireheart stared, confused. Then he stepped forward, opening his mouth to scent the air. "What in the forest...?"

Sucking in a breath, Whitestorm let out a hoarse bark, then a snarl, practically thrashing in the bush. Longtail jumped back in alarm but Cinderpaw seemed more amused than anything. Fireheart unsheathed his claws.

"It's a fox!" Cinderpaw exclaimed, her eyes wide and limbs twitching with excess energy. "What do foxes look like?"

Whitestorm saw Fireheart's fear and the tom crouched low, his hackles rising. "Fireheart," he breathed, "Chase off the 'fox'!"

Fireheart seemed to hear him, because understanding dawned on his face, and suddenly he let out a furious caterwaul and leapt straight for the bushes. Claws out, he swiped at a leaf. "Get off ThunderClan territory!" He spat. "Foxes aren't welcome here!"

Whitestorm growled loudly, lashing back out with a move so fast that not even Cinderpaw's wide eyes could see.

"Look! It tried to hit you!"

Fireheart's legs burned and he snarled, springing into the bush. Taking his cue, Whitestorm backed out on the other side and rushed away, then ran back up the path, panting heavily.

"I've scented fox in the- What's going on here?"

Fireheart stepped out of the bush, his green eyes burning. "Don't worry, Whitestorm. I chased off the fox."

The white warrior looked at Longtail, who was crouching, his fur bristling wildly, beside the border. Cinderpaw jumped from one front paw to the other, excited.

"A warrior chasing off a fox on their own?" He meowed in disbelief. "Cinderpaw, is he telling the truth?"

The grey apprentice was dripping with energy. "He did, Whitestorm! I saw it with my own eyes! It even tried to claw him, but Fireheart leapt in there and chased it off!"

Purring contentedly, Whitestorm turned his attention back towards Fireheart. "Just as I'd expect from Bluestar's former apprentice."

_That_ got Cinderpaw's attention. "You were trained by Bluestar?"

"He sure was," Whitestorm licked his paw. He could hardly restrain his amusement. "He took on a Clan leader, too. Chased off a couple of warriors as an apprentice."

"Wow!"

"So, Fireheart," Whitestorm added, "What did the fox look like? Was it a full grown?"

The ginger tom looked bashful. "I... I think it was young. It definitely wasn't fully grown. Maybe a couple of seasons old."

"I see. In any case, that's one more fox that we won't be seeing again." Whitestorm smiled. "All of this excitement's gotten me hungry. Cinderpaw, has Fireheart showed you the hunting crouch yet?"

"Yes!"

"Why don't you and Longtail go and check back along the path for a mouse? If you catch one, we can share. I think Fireheart and I can renew this scent marker by ourselves."

Cinderpaw bounded down the path. Longtail cast a confused look towards Whitestorm but said nothing.

Once they were gone, Whitestorm let out a peal of laughter. "Apprentices! You really do have a good one there, Fireheart."

Fireheart felt the heat rise on his face. "She didn't even check to scent the air for fox," he murmured. "She seemed focused on watching me 'fight'."

"That's not a problem," Whitestorm padded up to the border, still humming with amusement. "She'll soon learn. She hasn't even been an apprentice for a full moon yet, Fireheart. Take things one step at a time."

The border patrol got to share a mouse once all of the markers were renewed. Cinderpaw had accidentally alerted it to her position, but Longtail had managed, though barely, to secure the catch.

"If we were on a hunting patrol, we would have to save it and take it back to camp," Fireheart told Cinderpaw, who now listened with rapt attention. "But since we're on a border patrol, we can eat a mouse or two."

Cinderpaw nodded in understanding. Whitestorm was impressed by her attentiveness. "So if we catch enough mice for StarClan, we could eat them all?"

Whitestorm bent his head and took a small bite of the mouse. "No," he meowed. "If we catch more than we need, we take them back to the Clan and place them on the fresh kill pile. Remember the warrior code: the elders and queens must be fed first."

"But surely the warriors should eat first?" Cinderpaw mewed. "Don't they need to keep up their strength to catch more prey and patrol the borders?"

Longtail huffed. Whitestorm licked his lips and pushed himself to his paws. "We'll have to talk on the way back to camp. I suppose that Tigerclaw will be wanting Longtail to take Swiftpaw training."

"I was planning on taking Cinderpaw to the training hollow now," Fireheart meowed. "Whitestorm, would you like to join me?"

He saw the hopeful expression in the new warrior's eyes. Unfortunately Tigerclaw had already requested that they share a meal as soon as he got back from his patrol, so he couldn't indulge the tom.

"I'm sorry but I'm expected back at camp," he meowed. "Perhaps next time, Fireheart."


	23. Grey Fades to White

Whitestorm was all for allowing warriors to roam within the territory when they weren't doing patrols or other duties. Freedom for them was refreshing, and that was a privilege not granted for apprentices. However when they started to spend more and more time outside of the camp to the point of neglecting their duties, that was when it became his business. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had noticed. Tigerclaw had also been asking questions.

_'Ever since Greystripe fell into the stream and caught that chill, he's been sneaking out of camp. I've caught his scent multiple times in the forest heading towards RiverClan territory.' _The white tom thought. His amber eyes narrowed as he watched the grey warrior step over to the fresh kill pile and take his share. _'He missed the dawn hunting patrol and hasn't brought back any prey today.'_

Whitestorm was tempted to walk over and deny the grey warrior his meal. He wasn't pulling his weight around the camp, and still expected to be fed? The very thought of it made anger slither through his gut. It was growing dark and the sun was dipping beneath the horizon.

"Whitestorm?" Blinking, he turned to look over his shoulder. Brackenpaw, Greystripe's apprentice, stood there with his paws shuffling on the earth. The golden-brown tabby dipped his head in a respectful greeting. "Can I join you?" The apprentice asked.

Whitestorm was lying on his side on the ground, his hind legs splayed out in relaxation. "Of course, Brackenpaw. What may I help you with?"

Brackenpaw crouched down beside him, his amber eyes steady on him. They were serious and worried, and the long-legged tom seemed to hesitate before he spoke. "Well, Greystripe hasn't been training me," he meowed. "Fireheart keeps taking me out with Cinderpaw and training us both, but I don't know if that's too much for him. I mean, I try to do my best to help him out..."

The white tom listened calmly, nodding his understanding. "Do you feel that you are a burden on him?" He asked.

Brackenpaw bit his lip and flattened his ears. "I... I guess... I've been trying really hard, but Cinderpaw is a pawful, you know? I think Greystripe should be training me more, but when he does he seems so distracted. When I ask him a question I already know to test whether or not he's paying attention, he gives me the wrong answer or doesn't answer it at all."

"Are you concerned that Greystripe is not a suitable mentor for you?" He asked. Brackenpaw was an inquisitive, calm cat. Though Cinderpaw needed guidance, Brackenpaw was clever for an apprentice of his age, so needed to be taught other various things as well. If Greystripe was not up for that task...

His question caused Brackenpaw's eyes to widen in alarm. "I don't- I mean I think... Um, well, I..."

"Calm, Brackenpaw," Whitestorm reached a paw out to the apprentice, gazing at him thoughtfully. Brackenpaw took a breath and lowered his head. "I won't tell Greystripe any of this. You're a smart apprentice and I trust you to make your own choices. If you want to switch mentors, I can arrange for Bluestar to give your training to someone else. If Greystripe isn't training you, I need to know."

Brackenpaw glanced around the camp anxiously. He looked like he wanted to respond, but the tabby tom wasn't sure about other ears overhearing their conversation.

Sensing his discomfort, Whitestorm rose to his full height. "Come," he murmured, nudging Brackenpaw to his feet and padding towards Tigerclaw. The great tabby tom was talking, as usual, to Darkstripe. As he approached, Tigerclaw paused in his speech. "Tigerclaw, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I'd like to take Brackenpaw on a hunting run. I thought I'd ask you since you'll be organising the other patrols."

Tigerclaw eyed Brackenpaw, whose head was lowered, and then grunted. "Fine. But I want that fresh kill pile rebuilding. Where will you be hunting?"

Whitestorm's ear swivelled around slightly. "I'll take him to Owl Tree."

Tigerclaw huffed and nodded, then turned away.

The two cats headed west from the camp. Brackenpaw stayed close to Whitestorm; their pelts brushing as the sun vanished and the moon appeared in the distance. The night sky was dappled with the bright stars of their ancestors, who were watching over them, protecting them.

"What's the Owl Tree?" Asked Brackenpaw after a while.

Whitestorm blinked in surprise. "Greystripe never showed you this part of the territory?"

Brackenpaw shifted and sat down. "Well, Fireheart brought me over here once on the first day with Greystripe and Cinderpaw, but we didn't stay for long. We were just shown the borders, not anything within them really..."

"I see," Whitestorm murmured. "Then I'll have to remedy that problem, Brackenpaw. A warrior must know the land he is defending, else there is no point in defending it. Owl Tree is a place where owls sleep during the day. At night, they hunt for mice and roam the skies over the forest."

Brackenpaw's eyes glistened as he took in the knowledge. "So we're hunting owls, Whitestorm?"

The white warrior purred and crouched in the shadows. "I'm afraid not. You're still too small for that. You see, owls are rumoured to bring bad omens to the Clans. Sometimes they dare to swoop into the middle of the camp and steal kits, as do hawks." Brackenpaw bristled, and Whitestorm added quickly, "We'll be stalking them tonight. You see, owls are useful predators."

"But they hunt our prey," Brackenpaw meowed quietly, looking up at the large tree. "In leafbare, we need all the prey we can get. They can't be useful then, can they?"

"During leafbare, most of the owls fly towards the sun for warmer lands and return when newleaf comes. Some don't, and though they hunt, they are still useful."

Brackenpaw followed Whitestorm's gaze up at Owl Tree. Many leaves were littered at the base of the trunk and it looked fairly old. The apprentice could smell the strong scent of owl drifting through the air. "Why will we be stalking them if we don't want to catch them? Wouldn't that waste energy we can use to hunt prey?"

Whitestorm purred. "You are very clever, Brackenpaw, but think of it this way. What do owls have that we do not?"

Brackenpaw thought for a moment. "Wings?"

Whitestorm nodded. "Yes. And how can they be useful in helping them to hunt?"

"Well, they'd be really slow on their short, stubby feet," Brackenpaw meowed. "...And they can get a better view of the forest than we can. A birds eye view."

"That's right. Owls can see much more than we can. Their eyes are very sharp and they can detect even the tiniest flicker of movements, even in the dark night sky."

Brackenpaw nodded slowly in understanding. "Does that mean because they can move faster and see more than we can, we are going to follow them to see where they hunt? Because they'll know where the prey is?"

"Well done," Whitestorm purred. Greystripe probably had no idea what he was missing, neglecting his training with Brackenpaw. "Now, we wait until an owl either flies to the tree or out of it again. When we see an owl, we're going to run through the shadows after it, as far as we can – but not over the border, or to Snakerocks."

"Not to Snakerocks?" Brackenpaw asked.

"Snakerocks is filled with snakes that have a very nasty bite. Some of them are poisonous, which means their bites have the same effect as eating yew berries. Has Fireheart or Greystripe ever warned you about yew?" Brackenpaw shook his head. "Well, I'll show you them later. For now, look!"

A large brown owl flew over the treetops and pushed through the wide branches of Owl Tree and vanished for a moment.

"Get ready, Brackenpaw!" Hissed Whitestorm. A familiar sense of excitement flowed over him, causing his muscles to bunch up readily. Brackenpaw tensed beside him and lifted his tail, staring up at the tree.

A few heartbeats later the owl reappeared, soaring high over the tree tops. Whitestorm burst from his hiding place and cleared a fallen log in a single bound with Brackenpaw hot on his heels. The apprentice was doing his best to keep up as they chased the owl back towards the camp.

"Brackenpaw, stop!"

The two skidded to a halt and pressed low against the earth. "Smell that?"

The apprentice lifted his head, opening his mouth. His amber eyes grew wide. "Rabbits!"

"Have you ever hunted rabbit before?" Whitestorm asked. The tabby shook his head. "Well, Brackenpaw, I'm going to tell you how and then I want you to try it. Now you have to move very quietly but quickly. A rabbit will hear you before it sees you, because of it's large ears. If they angle towards you, stay perfectly still. If it runs, you should chase it as fast as you can before it gets back to it's burrow."

"Yes, Whitestorm," Brackenpaw's eyes were filled with excitement. Whitestorm realised that this must be the first time that he was given the chance to hunt rabbit at night. He ordered the apprentice to track it down, following his lead and correcting him whenever he went off the trail. Finally the plump rabbit was in their sights - a dark grey mound of fur brushing against the grass.

Whitestorm was impressed as Brackenpaw stalked the rabbit, which nibbled at stalks of dandelions for a snack. Brackenpaw's claws slipped from their sheathes, his earthy pelt blending in well against the trees behind him. Whitestorm stuck to the shadows and kept his amber eyes half mast. If he moved, his bright snowy pelt would instantly alert their prey.

Brackenpaw prowled forwards, crouching in the long grass, keeping his head down and eyes fixed on the grey rabbit. For a moment he stiffened; the rabbit turned to glance in his direction, its whiskers twitching as it munched on the shoots. Then it looked away again, staring out towards the stream.

It took a small hop and bent down to reach for another shoot. Brackenpaw burst from his position and brought down his claw on the rabbit. It squeaked, trying to dart away, but there was nowhere to go. Brackenpaw killed it with a clean, accurate bite to the throat.

Whitestorm, pleased with the apprentice's catch, padded out from his hiding place. Brackenpaw, with the rabbit in his jaws, lifted his head triumphantly, his amber eyes gleaming with pride. "I did it!" Voice muffled with the thick fur in his mouth, he padded over to the white warrior and planted the catch at his paws.

Whitestorm dipped his head and sniffed the rabbit's still flank, then smiled. "Clean catch, Brackenpaw. Well done." Brackenpaw's chest fluffed up and he straightened up. "So, what have you learned? Tell me something I haven't told you."

Brackenpaw gazed down at the rabbit briefly and then bit his lip. "Does it have to be about the rabbit, or...?"

"Anything that you've done with me tonight."

Brackenpaw drew a breath. "Hunting rabbits is different to hunting mice. A rabbit will hear you before it sees you."

Whitestorm paused. "And how does that differ from a mouse?"

"A mouse will feel the vibration of your paws through the ground," Brackenpaw recited. That was something Fireheart had told him. "But you have to move as quiet as you can for both, because if you step on a twig..."

"If you step on a stick, both will hear it and will sense you. So what should you do if you're seen?"

Brackenpaw fell silent and shrugged.

Whitestorm flicked his tail. "If you're seen, you should still try to capture the prey, but do so as quickly as possible. If a blackbird or any animal has the chance to make an alarm call to the rest of the prey, you might not just lose your chance to catch that, but everything else will go into hiding as well. A bird call can be heard for countless fox lengths across the territory, Brackenpaw. There's a chance that you could end up ruining the hunt for other cats who aren't in the same area as you, so you should be careful."

"I understand," Brackenpaw meowed.

Whitestorm sat down. "So should you try to capture prey that's seen you?"

Brackenpaw nodded. "Yes."

"And why is that?"

Brackenpaw tilted his head. "You just told me."

"Humour me," Whitestorm meowed.

Brackenpaw swallowed. "You should try to catch prey that has seen you, because if you don't it can alert others nearby and they will go into hiding."

Whitestorm nodded approvingly. "And will that affect other cats?"

Brackenpaw nodded. "It can frighten off the prey others are hunting, even if they aren't hunting nearby."

"Good, Brackenpaw. Now, I want you to see if there are any animals nearby that we can capture. I'll bury your rabbit and we can take it back to camp later."

"Yes, Whitestorm."

As he watched the apprentice trudge away into the bushes, Whitestorm couldn't help but wonder again who his father was. The apprentice was clever and calm, even when he had been in the nursery. Once Whitestorm had gotten over Snowfur's death, he had been very calm and careful, and Brackenpaw reminded him of that time.

_'I will have to ask Frostfur who his father is.' _He felt bad for prying, but he was curious to know.


	24. Discovery

When Brackenpaw and Whitestorm returned to camp at the break of dawn, both toms were tired, but they had caught a fair amount of prey. Encouraged by the relieved gleam in Brackenpaw's eyes, he ushered the tom off to bed after he had deposited his prey on the pile. Whitestorm ordered him to take something to eat before he went to sleep.

Brackenpaw's long legs were already quite strong and steady. After seeing him successfully track down three mice in addition to his rabbit, the tom was wondering, because of the hue of his pelt, if Tigerclaw was his father. It would make sense, but Cinderpaw's grey pelt still confused him.

_'Sometimes the appearance of a cat has been known to skip from the parents of the queen to her kits,' _Whitestorm noted. _'Perhaps that is what has happened here.'_

Still, he had no proof. He just had a hunch.

As Whitestorm deposited a finch and a vole onto the fresh kill pile, he heard Tigerclaw step out of the warrior's den. The tabby called out to him, his amber eyes blinking in the weak sunlight. Leafbare was arriving and a chill had taken refuge in the air.

"I see your hunt was successful," the tabby meowed. "I thought I heard someone coming into the camp. Well done, Whitestorm."

"Brackenpaw's hunting skills are very good," replied the tom, turning his head away to yawn. "We were up all night. I hope you don't mind if we sleep for a while?"

"I guess you'll be no use on the dawn patrol." Tigerclaw's whiskers twitched. "You look like you're about to fall off your paws. You and Brackenpaw can get some rest, but I expect you on the sunset patrol, or on a water patrol before then."

"Yes, Tigerclaw. Can you tell Greystripe not to disturb Brackenpaw?" Whitestorm was surprised when a smouldering expression burned on the large tabby's face. He looked angry about something. _'He knows about Greystripe sneaking out of camp,' _he realised, sitting down on the ground.

"When he gets back from wherever he snuck off to," growled Tigerclaw. "He's out of camp too much for my liking, and he never tells me where he goes. Always 'hunting' or 'for a walk' but he never brings back anything to show for it. Do you know anything?"

Whitestorm glanced over to the Warrior's den. Mousefur, Sandstorm and Fireheart were padding out, ready to join the dawn patrol. "I'm afraid I don't," he meowed, looking back to Tigerclaw. "I've caught his scent a few times but nothing conclusive."

"Well until he _can_ find something, he's going hungry," spat Tigerclaw, shouldering his way past to organise the patrols. "If he can't find prey for the Clan, he can starve until he can."

Whitestorm knew it was a harsh punishment, but it was justified. As he crouched down to take Brackenpaw's rabbit to Bluestar, he saw the grey warrior step into the camp with a small water vole in his jaws. As Whitestorm passed the grey tom on his way to his aunt's den, through the rabbit's scruff, he rubbed his cheek along the warrior's side. He swore he could smell something, but with the prey dangling from his jaws, he couldn't be sure.

Bluestar greeted him with a purr and offered to share her meal with him. The plump rabbit looked delicious and Whitestorm bent his neck to put it down at her paws. However as he did, Bluestar brushed her cheek against him and stiffened.

At first Whitestorm thought perhaps she had seen something on his pelt. He'd been close to Owl Tree – perhaps he had a bit of the scent of owl pod on him. But as he turned around and scented his side, there was a different scent.

"Have you been to the RiverClan border?" Bluestar asked, puzzled. "I thought you went to Owl Tree last night."

"I did go to Owl Tree. I hunted with Brackenpaw all the way up to the Great Sycamore." He meowed. Whitestorm stared at his aunt, confused.

Suddenly his heart skipped a beat. Then it hit him.

_'Greystripe!'_


	25. Discussion of the Clouded Sky

"Excuse me, Bluestar," Whitestorm rose. "I'll just tell the patrol to keep a look out for RiverClan cats."

His aunt's confused stare followed him as he backed out of the den and ran to catch up with the patrol. They hadn't left yet, and he beckoned to Fireheart with his tail.

The ginger warrior padded over, his green eyes dull as though he hadn't got much sleep the night before. Whitestorm called an apology over to the dawn patrol and then leaned forward towards the warrior.

"Where is Greystripe going, Fireheart?" He asked sternly.

There was a nervous flicker of the warrior's tail. "I don't know."

He towered over the still young tom, his muscles tense and claws digging into the ground. "He's your best friend, Fireheart, and you've been training his apprentice. You ought to know what he's up to."

"He's just been going out for walks," Fireheart explained.

There was a nervous skip in the ginger tom's heartbeat. "Don't lie to me!" Growled the white tom. "If something's going on, Fireheart, I need to know about it. I don't think you'd take over his training if he were just going for walks." Lowering his voice, he added, "Is he asking RiverClan about Oakheart's death?"

Fireheart's eyes were alight with alarm. "What makes you think he's going to RiverClan?"

"You told me you'd try asking about his death," Whitestorm reminded carefully. "That, and when he came back to put some prey on the fresh kill pile, I caught RiverClan scent on his pelt."

There was a brief pause, and then Fireheart looked away. "I can't say for certain what's going on. All I can tell you is that we're still looking into Oakheart's death."

"Fireheart!" Mousefur yowled. "Hurry up!"

There was something else that Whitestorm wanted to ask the smaller flame-coloured cat, but he couldn't delay the patrol any longer. Fireheart dipped his head and trotted away to rejoin his patrol, but Whitestorm called out, "We'll talk about this later!"

Fireheart flicked his tail to show that he'd heard and left.

Shaking his head, Whitestorm padded back into Bluestar's den and crouched beside her, his belly growling with hunger. Her eyes were carefully guarded as she gazed at him, but he didn't acknowledge her. Instead he respectfully waited until she had taken a bite before he did so.

After a few moments of silence, Bluestar asked, "Is everything alright, Whitestorm?"

Whitestorm chewed on the rabbit carefully. _'Oh Bluestar, everything's going wrong. Brackenpaw's not being trained properly, Tigerclaw's being accused of treason and Greystripe's doing something that I know he'll regret.' _There wasn't enough to charge Tigerclaw with murdering Redtail, even if he hadn't done it. Greystripe was walking around with RiverClan's scent all over him and Brokenstar's allies were walking through the forest like a disease waiting to attack the Clans. What's worse was that no cat had even caught wind of them since they'd been chased out a few moons ago. Whitestorm had met a WindClan patrol a half-moon ago but they'd not reported seeing any sign of Brokenstar.

But the way he was acting, he knew that Bluestar wouldn't believe him if he told her that nothing was wrong.

"I'm just a bit tired and concerned, Bluestar," he meowed instead, letting his head droop. "Brackenpaw came to me yesterday."

His blue-grey aunt lifted her head in confusion. "Brackenpaw? Is something the matter?"

Whitestorm stared down at the half-eaten rabbit as Bluestar craned her neck and took another bite. How could he phrase it in a way that wouldn't implicate him in anything? Taking another mouthful of the food, he swallowed and paused.

"Greystripe's been taking a few too many walks recently," he reported. "Walking around the territory late at night when he should be resting, missing patrols or being too tired to think straight, coming back at dawn with either no prey or one piece of prey... He's not an apprentice, Bluestar. Both he and Fireheart caught a lot when they were apprentices. When I took Brackenpaw out of the camp and hunted with him, we both caught a lot of prey."

Bluestar wiped her tongue over her lips. "It doesn't sound like he's neglecting Brackenpaw's training then. I don't understand, Whitestorm."

Whitestorm shook his head and stared steadily at his aunt. "Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw have been training for almost a full moon. When I took him to Owl Tree, he had no idea where he was. Greystripe hasn't been teaching him the territory, and I had to teach him myself how to hunt rabbits and mice, or how we follow owls to stalk prey."

Bluestar's ears pricked. "Perhaps Greystripe is teaching him, but Brackenpaw is just forgetting."

Whitestorm sighed. Of course Bluestar wouldn't want to believe her warriors incapable of training an apprentice. "You're accusing him for his youth, Bluestar. Fireheart's been taking over his training. They can't both be useless mentors, especially not since Fireheart is a skilled warrior, and he's managed to keep up with Cinderpaw. I've been guiding Fireheart on mentoring, giving him advice when he comes to me with questions or concerns." He meowed. "Brackenpaw came to me yesterday and shared his concerns with me."

Bluestar's expression was unreadable for a moment. "Are you sure? I've noticed something strange going on with Greystripe myself, but I haven't thought it could affect Brackenpaw as well."

A wave of impatience and tiredness made Whitestorm's temper flicker like a blinking star in the sky. "Bluestar, Greystripe hasn't been training Brackenpaw."

"At all?"

"At all," Whitestorm confirmed. "Brackenpaw says he's been distracted. When he asks Greystripe a question, he receives an answer, but what he hears is wrong. He can't trust what Greystripe says, and Tigerclaw's noticed these disappearances as well."

Bluestar stared ahead of her at the den wall. Once more her gaze was unreadable, almost as if she was thinking back to something. "Should I warn Greystripe, or should I appoint another mentor for Brackenpaw?" She asked herself quietly after a while. "Fireheart cannot train both Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw."

Being in her council, Whitestorm knew his voice would be heard, and even much more considering he was respected, wise and strong. "There are several cats in ThunderClan that have no apprentice. I think that any would be a better suitor for Brackenpaw. But... I think you should wait. I would like to see how far along Brackenpaw is in his training."

There was an understanding nod and then the two finished off their meals in silence "You've been up all night," Bluestar meowed. "You can sleep here if you'd like. I'm not going on any patrols today. It'd be nice to share a den with a friend for once."

Whitestorm was mildly surprised with her offer, but didn't refuse. It had been a long time since he'd settled down to sleep beside his aunt, and a while since she'd offered her den to any of her warriors. A fleeting exhaustion flowed over his bones as they shared tongues, and Whitestorm drifted off into a peaceful sleep, curled up with his jaw resting on Bluestar's back. Bluestar was curled around him the other way, her head rested upon him and blue eyes drifting shut once more...


	26. Know Thyself, Brackenpaw

Somehow Greystripe had come down with food poisoning, and was confined to camp. Yellowfang had been treating him for it, giving him yarrow and other herbs to soothe and purge his belly of the poison, but Whitestorm's suspicions had once again been piqued. He'd heard of no other cases of food poisoning – all other ThunderClan cats were being careful, looking for signs of contamination, tasting their prey carefully before eating just to see if it tasted funny.

Truthfully Whitestorm had already decided upon another reason: Greystripe had been eating fish from the river. Though RiverClan had been careful not to say anything at the last gathering, he'd heard rumours that the river had been tainted. On top of that, the patrols he'd seen near Sunningrocks had been scrawnier than ever, and none of the stubborn river-dwelling cats had dared to challenge from for the piece of land.

But he hadn't said anything. Whitestorm knew that it could just be a co-incidence on top of everything else going on. Something caught a fish from the river and Greystripe ended up eating that piece of prey. But he couldn't rule it out.

It had been three nights since he'd taken Brackenpaw to Owl Tree. Ever since, Greystripe had taken out Brackenpaw once with Fireheart, but again upon asking the golden-brown tabby apprentice, the warrior had been distracted. Fireheart had been pressured and the leafbare was making it difficult to train the apprentices.

"Brackenpaw!" Whitestorm called smoothly, sweeping his tail over the ground in a gesture to summon the apprentice. He was sitting beside Cinderpaw, who was talking about how Fireheart had taken her battle training.

The tabby rose, excusing himself from his sister, and padded over. Whitestorm noticed how the tom's shoulders were getting broader as he grew. He wouldn't be as broad as Tigerclaw, but he would probably end up similar to Tallstar, Whitestorm thought.

As Brackenpaw drew to a stop in front of him, dipping his head respectfully, Whitestorm stepped towards him and sat down. "Have you eaten this morning, Brackenpaw?"

The tabby looked briefly confused. "Uh, yes, Whitestorm. I had a sparrow."

Whitestorm glanced up at the sky. "Though the air grows cold and the leaves dry up, such a day should not go to waste, young one. Ever since Sandstorm became a warrior, I have too much free time on my paws. How would you feel about joining me and Bluestar at the training hollow?"

Satisfaction made his chest swell, seeing the hopeful light of the apprentice's eyes. "Really?"

Whitestorm chuckled. "Unlike some cats, I don't like to talk to hear the sound of my own voice. She's already there waiting for us. At first it'll be me and Bluestar sparring, just for old times sake. But then, once you've seen us battle, Bluestar will stand aside and I'll teach you some moves while we correct your posture and strikes."

Brackenpaw looked nervous. "She will be watching?" He asked.

Whitestorm tilted his head slightly. "All apprentices start somewhere, Brackenpaw. Even Bluestar started off without knowing any moves. Do you think she was born with the knowledge to fight?"

"Well, no," Brackenpaw shuffled his paws and stared at the ground. "But she's our leader. What if she doesn't think I'm good enough?"

"Explain."

Brackenpaw's eyes were tinged with alarm and wide. "What if I'm not good enough to fight? I mean, I don't really like fighting... I don't think I'll be very good at it."

"You don't have to attack, Brackenpaw," Whitestorm assured softly. "ThunderClan warriors are not savages. When we fight, we do so to defend ourselves, not to kill, torture or maim. When we head into battle, it is beside friends, and we protect what is rightfully ours. When we fight, we are never alone."

"But fighting," Brackenpaw looked distraught. Whitestorm couldn't explain the sense of personal shame he saw there. "Spilling blood... In battle, can we really ensure that someone won't lose their life? StarClan gave us life for a reason, and we're wasting them by fighting! Why can't we just have peace between Clans? Won't everything be easier if we just work together as one?"

Brackenpaw's words were filled with conviction that shocked even Whitestorm. His amber eyes burned with determination, and Whitestorm felt many eyes resting on him as the Clan paused to listen, as though they were expecting him to stand up and say something. Fireheart had felt the same way, he'd heard, when speaking to Lionheart and Tigerclaw as an apprentice.

And to some extent, Whitestorm knew Brackenpaw's words were true. StarClan had granted them life – or, in the case of leaders, nine lives. However Brackenpaw didn't know some truths, and it was his duty as a warrior to alleviate that weakness.

Smiling, Whitestorm curled his tail around his paws. "Your words are spoken from your heart, and I feel that in time it will make you a powerful warrior. But Brackenpaw, not all battles are fought with tooth and claw." He explained, gazing warmly at the golden-brown tom. "Not all battles are the result of Clan conflict. There are battles where you may need to use your head to outwit your opponent. There are battles that can only be fought with words, and it is up to you to decide whether or not you choose to stand with violence or through other means."

Brackenpaw's eyes flickered with uncertainty and doubt. Whitestorm continued. "StarClan gave us a life, you're correct. However, in the end, every cat in ThunderClan will leave to rejoin StarClan. There isn't really a definite answer to why we were given a life, young one. One warrior may say to learn the values of friendship or to fall in love, but another might say to defend the Clan and their honour."

Brackenpaw's ears flicked. Whitestorm's words were making sense to him. "And the Clans?"

"Just as StarClan has granted us Fourtrees and four seasons, there must be four Clans to maintain balance. Both in nature and in the Clans. You see, wars can break a cat, but they can also forge friendships so strong – so _powerful –_ that last for an eternity. When we move on to StarClan, we will have more knowledge than the Clans combined. This life we have here, it's just one part of a journey, Brackenpaw. When we are ready, perhaps one day we will understand fully. Until then, just enjoy what you have."

His words hadn't completely sated the apprentice's curiosity, but such a thing could never be resolved. There would always be questions, always disagreements, which set cats apart.

So, as he rose to his paws and beckoned for Brackenpaw to follow him to the sandy hollow, he gazed at the cat and murmured clearly, "Know yourself."

Brackenpaw's ears perked. "What does that mean? I am myself," he meowed.

Whitestorm purred to himself. "You're still so young. Think over it, young Brackenpaw. Someday you will understand."

As the two padded away, neither noticed the proud gaze of Frostfur following them from the nursery. The queen heaved a contented sigh, then moved to take some prey to the elders.


	27. Just Like Old Times

By the time they arrived at the training hollow, Bluestar was lying on the cool sand, licking her paw. She looked up as her massive white-furred nephew pushed through the gorse with Brackenpaw in tow. Though Whitestorm had reassured him, Brackenpaw still looked nervous, and dipped his head to Bluestar as she rose.

"I didn't think it would take so long for you to get here," she mused with a small smirk. Whitestorm reached over and brushed his cheek against her shoulder in a gesture of affection. Bluestar spat in mock annoyance and batted at his shoulder, her eyes glowing.

"Well, we had to settle something first," Whitestorm replied. "Are we going to do our usual routine now?"

"Aren't you going to show Brackenpaw a few moves first?" Bluestar asked.

Whitestorm stretched his hind legs in turn. "Well, I thought it would be prudent to show him how experienced warriors fight first."

Bluestar nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes, that would be a good idea. I've heard about your current predicament, Brackenpaw, with Greystripe not training you." As the apprentice looked up in alarm, she added, "I'm not blind. I've also noticed his little disappearing acts and I'm not happy about them. But until I figure out what he's doing, I'm not in a position to do anything. I'm thinking about giving you a new mentor. Clearly, for whatever reason, Greystripe isn't ready for an apprentice."

Brackenpaw looked conflicted for a heartbeat, and then nodded. "Yes, Bluestar." He meowed.

"Now, Whitestorm," Bluestar turned to her nephew with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's get started. Claws sheathed."

Brackenpaw settled himself into an alert sitting position so he wouldn't lose concentration. Whitestorm distanced himself a short distance away from Bluestar, who was just sitting there with her eyes half closed.

"Any rules, Bluestar?" Whitestorm called. "Is this to be a game?"

Bluestar's whiskers twitched in surprise. "Five hits calls the winner?"

Whitestorm smiled and flexed his front paws this time, digging his claws into the earth and lifting his rump into the air. His tail lifted and swished before his body fell back into it's usual position. "Let's aim for the shoulders or the head for this one," he meowed. "Brackenpaw, pay attention!"

Neither Whitestorm or Bluestar moved. Both remained sitting, gazing steadily at each other. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to spar with his mother's sister and he hadn't forgotten how quick she was, nor how deceptively strong she was. But then again, most cats thought that he was slow because of his towering size, and when they were faced with him in the flesh... They quickly learned otherwise.

Her cool, calculating eyes flickered from him to the ground and then back. In a motion that could give an adder something to really think about, both lunged for each other with teeth bared but claws sheathed.

Bluestar deftly rolled out of the way of his front paw blow, trying to roll onto her side and swipe her paws against his soft underbelly. Whitestorm heaved himself forward with his front paws and jumped with his hind paws, shifting all weight onto his front before thumping his thick, bushy tail into Bluestar's face.

She spluttered a mouthful of snowy fur, blinking her stinging eyes. As her vision cleared she tried to rise, but Whitestorm was upon her in an instant, sinking his teeth into her scruff and throwing her from side to side like a rag doll.

Bluestar howled indignantly and lashed out with her claws, but she couldn't turn to get a good grip. Whitestorm allowed himself a laugh and finally released his aunt by throwing her onto her side a few fox lengths away.

She rolled onto her paws and shook, spitting furiously, but acknowledged the hit with an approving nod. "I forgot about that trick," she growled, narrowing her eyes. "You see, Brackenpaw, Whitestorm learned that sometimes your claws and teeth aren't enough to win. You see how thick the plumage on his tail is? Well, when a cat sneaks up behind him, he can deliver a pretty good blow to the face. They'd be too dazed to realise what was happening before he was on them, giving them some wounds to think about."

Whitestorm lunged for his aunt again, trying to grab her attention with another frontal assault. "I thought we were fighting, not talking!"

Bluestar ducked and twisted, rolling over on the sand before she leapt at the warrior and grabbed his ear in a firm but harmless grip. Whitestorm reared up in an attempt to shake her off, but Bluestar swung her legs beneath him and kicked the paws from under him.

Whitestorm crashed onto his side on the ground, wincing as Bluestar jabbed his face with her paw and then moved to pin him down. With no claws it was easy to roll on top of her and squash her beneath his large bulk. Bluestar writhed, unable to escape before he clamped his jaws around the back of her head, at her throat.

"Dead," he said simply. "If I were an enemy warrior, chances are that would have been a killing bite."

Bluestar remained still as Whitestorm's thick paws held her to the ground. "Then I'm lucky you're not an enemy warrior, huh?"

They fought until they both gained four blows each, and then circled each other in what seemed to be a dance. Whitestorm's body was exploding with energy and he wanted to run to the ends of the earth, but one false move could cost him his victory. His eyes never once left Bluestar as she matched his pawsteps, falling into a hypnotising rhythm.

As if on some unspoken signal, Whitestorm and Bluestar threw themselves at each other. The she-cat huffed as he rammed his shoulder into her extended paws and stopped her in her tracks, then whirled around to protect his shoulders from her slashing paw. Unfortunately he didn't turn in time, and as his hind leg ploughed into her chest, her paw thumped against his shoulder. He staggered and whirled around, his fur bristling, while Bluestar was thrown across the clearing and landed in front of Brackenpaw, lying on her side.

Whitestorm's ears perked and his blood chilled as he wondered if he'd hurt her. Bluestar was a powerful combatant, but even so his strength was akin to Tigerclaw's, and he was ever so slightly bigger than the tabby as well. Brackenpaw leaned over his leader, his amber eyes wide, having seen the entire battle.

_Mrrrrrow! _Bluestar rolled onto her back, letting out a warm, amused laugh. Whitestorm sighed with relief as the blue-grey she-cat heaved herself to her paws, her blue eyes brimming with delight.

"That was the best performance to date!" She exclaimed, her fur flat and shoulders loosening. "That time we tied!"

Whitestorm purred in amusement. He paused to smooth his ruffled fur down with a few licks and then licked his lips. "It was an enjoyable match. You are just as skilled as ever. You might have beaten me if you hadn't forgotten my tail-slap."

Bluestar padded over and wound herself around her nephew in satisfaction. Then she sat down beside him, beckoning Brackenpaw over to her. "That was a friendly game, Brackenpaw. However you can be guaranteed that an enemy will not fight with claws sheathed. For the purposes of training, we always keep our claws inside."

Seeing Brackenpaw's comprehending expression, Whitestorm checked the underside of his left paw. "How much has Fireheart or Greystripe taught you about fighting. Have you practised any of the moves?" Brackenpaw shook his head.

Bluestar blinked. "Not even the front paw swipe? That's the first move you're taught! How can you not have learned that?"

Brackenpaw looked dejected and anxious. "Well, Fireheart suggested I try it, but I didn't want to burden him. He already has Cinderpaw to look after, and... Well..."

"You didn't want to fight," Whitestorm finished. "Having seen me and Bluestar, do you want to learn a few moves to see how you get along? Even if you don't want to fight, you will always need to protect yourself, and you cannot do that upon instinct alone."

Brackenpaw paused and then nodded. "It'll be a good idea. I'll learn how to fight."

Whitestorm showed him how to perform the front paw blow, which was when he brought his paw upon his opponent's head in an attempt to daze them, and was called aside by Bluestar.

"This cannot go on," she hissed quietly, glancing over at the tabby. "Almost a moon of training amounts to this? Unacceptable! He didn't know the way to the hollow on his own, and he _still _doesn't know the most basic of fighting moves?"

Whitestorm had to agree. Greystripe would be humiliated, having his apprentice stripped from him, but Bluestar had good reason to be concerned. At first he had been reluctant to share the news of Greystripe's neglect but now he was glad he had. At least Brackenpaw would be given a more suitable mentor.

"Whitestorm! How's this?" The apprentice called. Whitestorm looked over to him, watching as he slammed his paw against the ground. Despite his initial reluctance to fight, he was naturally a good fighter. The tom still had a lot to learn but he had a lot of promise.

Giving an encouraging smile, Whitestorm branched off from Bluestar and moved to show him the counter for the move. He could feel his aunt's gaze on him as he moved onto the next move, and then another. Brackenpaw seemed to pick things up quickly, so that meant that he was not at fault.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!"

Brackenpaw sat beneath the Highrock as Whitestorm returned from his border patrol with Tigerclaw, Swiftpaw and Longtail. His eyes flicked curiously to his aunt, who was scanning the incoming congregation of warriors, queens, apprentices, elders and other higher ranking cats. Fireheart was already there with Cinderpaw stood in her position on the apprentice's side, gazing at her brother with undisguised amazement.

"Is his warrior ceremony happening already?" She asked Mousefur as she padded past.

Tigerclaw moved to take his place, murmuring a brief 'no' in response to her question. Yellowfang and Greystripe both appeared from the medicine cat's den, though they stayed further away from the rest of the Clan.

"Fireheart," Whitestorm whispered briefly as he paused in his step. "How is Cinderpaw's training going? Do you need any more help?"

Fireheart smiled. "She's getting easier to manage, thanks to your advice. I have a question about assessments but that can wait until later, if that's okay?"

Whitestorm nodded in assurance. "Of course. I'll be resting in the camp for a while so you can stop by and ask me then. I hope you won't mind me eating while we talk, though."

Fireheart shook his head and purred gratefully. Whitestorm flicked his tail and took his place, gazing up at his aunt. Bluestar was staring down at him curiously, and then signalled with her tail for silence.

"One young tom was made an apprentice one moon ago. However, due to circumstances beyond his control, his training has been lacking. Therefore I have decided to reassign him to another cat, who will take over his training." She announced. "Brackenpaw, come forward."

There was an ignored yowl of outrage from Greystripe, who was silenced by a hiss from Yellowfang. A brief murmur broke out amongst the cats but fell silent again as Bluestar scanned the crowd.

Her eyes landed once more on Brackenpaw. The tabby apprentice gulped, glancing back at Greystripe, whose eyes burned with rage. Whitestorm nodded in reassurance to the tom and then gazed up at his aunt.

"Brackenpaw, you have already had your ceremony so I will not repeat it. You were trained by Greystripe, but from this day forth your mentor will be Whitestorm. He has already partially taken over your training and I have witnessed the trust placed between you two." Bluestar searched out her nephew in the crowd.

Whitestorm stared in surprise at his leader, his tufted ears flicking. He'd taken over the tom's training but he'd not expected to be a mentor so soon. "Whitestorm. Since Sandstorm became a warrior, you are ready to take on another apprentice. You have proved yourself to be wise and patient. You will be the mentor of Brackenpaw and I expect you to pass on all you know to Brackenpaw."


	28. Fire Burns, Frostfur's Confession!

"Whitestorm! Brackenpaw! Whitestorm! Brackenpaw!"

Gracefully Whitestorm padded over and reached down to touch noses with Brackenpaw. The tom's eyes were a lot calmer now, even excited, because he knew that his training would go properly now.

"You have my word I will teach you everything you need to know – and more." Murmured the tom, his eyes softly encouraging. "I will teach you at your own pace, so don't feel pressured. When you are ready, I will be waiting."

Brackenpaw's smile and glowing eyes seemed to have caught the pleased eyes of Bluestar, because the she-cat bounded off of the Highrock to join them. "I know I've made the right choice," she meowed. "Whitestorm has been taught by a good warrior, and has trained many as well."

"Thank you so much, Bluestar!" Brackenpaw's tail lifted. "I'll do my best!"

"Wait!"

The clamour died down as a sick Greystripe staggered over, much to the annoyance of Yellowfang. The tom's fur was bristling and his claws sunk into sand.

Whitestorm didn't flinch at the hostility he saw in the warrior's gaze, especially as it landed on him. He heard what sounded like a mutter of 'apprentice-stealer', and Greystripe's furious glare landed on Bluestar.

"I was training him! Why have you given my apprentice to Whitestorm?" The grey tom demanded.

Whitestorm felt Brackenpaw tense beside him. Curling his tail around the tabby tom, Whitestorm replied for her. "You speak of young Brackenpaw as though he is a plaything, Greystripe. He is free to make his own choices, as are you."

"What does that mean?" Greystripe spat, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Fireheart came up alongside his friend, hissing quietly for him to stop. "Are you saying I chose to lose my apprentice?"

"It means you chose to go out for 'walks' and solo hunting parties when you could have been training him," Whitestorm corrected.

"Whitestorm is right," Tigerclaw meowed. "And Bluestar has made it official. It's too late to change it now. Perhaps you should not have been given an apprentice to begin with, if this is how you're acting."

"Greystripe, stop!" Fireheart warned urgently. The tom was staring straight at Whitestorm. "It's not worth it. You're just showing yourself up!"

"Showing myself up?" Greystripe rounded on his friend. "I just lost my apprentice!"

"Easy, Brackenpaw," Whitestorm curled his head around to lick the tabby apprentice's head. He wasn't liking the attention at all. He let out a smooth, rumbling purr in an effort to soothe the tom. "Everything will be alright."

Suddenly there was a screech from Fireheart. Whitestorm lifted his head sharply and managed to move in time to avoid the spitting, frenzied ball of fangs and claws from rolling into him and his new apprentice. All around the clearing, cats moved out of the way with shocked yowls.

"This is all my fault!" Brackenpaw gasped.

"No," Whitestorm turned to address him, but Brackenpaw had already shot off and into the warrior's den.

"Enough!" Bluestar thundered.

Fireheart and Greystripe broke apart, bloodied and battered. Yellowfang rushed over to the two, snarling something. They immediately looked guilty.

"Greystripe, go to Yellowfang's den and stay there. Fireheart, my den – _now._"

Whitestorm headed for the warrior's den, but hesitated at the entrance. He could hear Brackenpaw inside, shaking like a leaf, but was going inside when he was so distressed really a good idea? _'I should give him some time to calm down.'_

"Whitestorm?" Frostfur called from the nursery. Her eyes were half lidded and softly concerned. "Can I speak to you please?"

Whitestorm padded over to her. Frostfur beckoned for him to follow, where they could talk in privacy without any cat overhearing. As she settled back in her nest, Whitestorm sat beside her.

"I don't doubt the decision Bluestar made," she meowed. "You saved my kits from ShadowClan, and I will always be grateful for that. I know you'll be a worthy mentor for my kit, as is Fireheart. But there is something that you don't know, and I feel that now is the time to tell you."

Whitestorm sat in anticipation, carefully eyeing the she-cat. As of yet he hadn't managed to ask her what he had been meaning to. Frostfur looked slightly unnerved, as though she hadn't fully committed herself to revealing whatever truth she held.

Finally, she spoke. "Whitestorm, _you_ are the father of my kits."

Whitestorm's eyes widened and he tensed visibly. But how could this be! He hadn't taken a mate yet because he'd been waiting for a better time, when the Clan wasn't threatened. _'I've just been made the mentor of my own son?' _He knew that Bluestar wouldn't permit it. A cat couldn't train their own kits because they could be too soft. Whitestorm wasn't soft, but he hadn't had a kit before. _'This changes everything, doesn't it?'_

"Brackenpaw, Cinderpaw, Thornpaw and Brightpaw?" He asked, surprised at how his own voice quivered.

Frostfur nodded and gazed steadily at the tom. "I know you might not want to remain my 'mate', as it were, but I thought that with everything going on, you had the right to know. Brackenpaw, Cinderpaw, Thornkit and Brightkit are our kits."

Whitestorm lapsed into an uneasy silence. He stared down at his paws, not really sure what to say, or what his reaction should be. "Why have you hidden this from me all these moons, Frostfur?"

The she-cat sighed. "I was going to tell you back when they were born, but... That night they were taken by Brokenstar and his allies, and I was too shocked to think straight. When you got back and I thanked you, I was trying to think of a way to tell you, but the kits started crying and I had to go to them. Whitestorm, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I wasn't sure whether you would want to know."

"Do they know?" Whitestorm asked.

Frostfur shook her head. "They just know that their father is a great warrior, and nothing more. Brackenpaw has asked me but I said I didn't want to talk about it, and none of them asked again. I think they suspect Tigerclaw."

Bluestar would probably take Brackenpaw away from him now that the truth was out in the open. Whitestorm had worked so hard to try and gain the warrior's trust – and he had – but now... "I don't blame you," he meowed, "But I'm sorry. I need some time to process this. May I come back later?"

"You're always welcome, Whitestorm," Frostfur meowed gently. "Take all the time you need."

Whitestorm dipped his head and backed out of the den. He had two sons and two daughters. Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw were already in training, but he had two more, Brightkit and Thornkit. How could this be possible? None of them had white pelts like Frostfur and him! Had they all skipped a generation – or even a few?

Whitestorm shook his head and padded over to where Bluestar was stepping out of her den with Fireheart in tow. The tom had a bite to his leg, and he'd seen a claw wound around Greystripe's eye before he'd been ordered into the medicine cat's den. As he padded towards the fresh kill pile, both cats rounded to meet him.

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Bluestar meowed.

_'At some point she will have to know. But I don't think I'm ready yet. I think I'd rather bond with... my kits... first.' _"Fine, Bluestar." Whitestorm straightened up and flattened the fur along his spine. "I just had a talk with Frostfur. She says she approves of your choice."

Bluestar nodded and headed back to her den. Fireheart paused. "Whitestorm, can I speak to you now about assessments?"

_'My daughter's assessment.' _It was strange, thinking about them in that way, but it was also strangely refreshing. It felt like Sunningrocks had fallen on his shoulders, but seeing the two turned it into a mountain of bird feathers.

"Of course, Fireheart," he drew in a breath and lifted his head, feeling somewhat proud now. "You can speak to me about anything. You know that."


	29. Cinderpaw's Accident, Tigerclaw's Lie?

Whitestorm's ears perked as Tigerclaw raced into the camp. Frostfur bristled beside him. They'd been talking about Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw and discussing what to do next, but all conversation stopped as Tigerclaw appeared.

"Yellowfang!" The great tabby warrior didn't even stop to tell him what was going on before skidding to a halt in front of the dark grey medicine cat.

A few heartbeats later, Fireheart staggered into the camp with a limp body in his jaws. Whitestorm recognised it within a heartbeat. Frostfur shrieked and shot forwards, weaving herself around her kit. Whitestorm was stunned.

"Cinderpaw? Cinderpaw! Oh no... Yellowfang! She's alive, but- her leg!"

Brindleface rushed over to her den mate and pressed herself close to the she-cat. "It'll be okay," she murmured gently, "Let Yellowfang see to her. She'll save her."

Whitestorm wasn't sure whether he should approach or stay back. Yellowfang would need space, but this was his daughter, wasn't it? Should he be rational and try to help? Yellowfang reached forward and dragged the she-cat into her den, closing the bramble cover over the front.

Fireheart looked defeated. His emerald eyes were filled with fear, uncertainty, guilt and confusion.

"What happened?" Whitestorm demanded.

Fireheart's voice cracked briefly. "I... I went out to fetch some catnip for Bluestar.. Tigerclaw... He said there was evidence of ShadowClan hunting near the Thunderpath. He asked for Bluestar to come, but Bluestar has greencough, so she offered to go out instead. I told her not to go – I'd go once I delivered the catnip."

"She went anyway?" He finished. "Was she hit on the Thunderpath?"

Fireheart nodded numbly but said nothing.

Taking a breath, Whitestorm knew he had to stay calm for the sake of the Clan. "Go to your den and get some rest, Fireheart. I'll update you on Cinderpaw once I hear anything. Do you want any poppy seeds?"

Fireheart shook his head, heading for the warrior's den. "Thanks, Whitestorm."

The Clan was still and anxious. Tigerclaw was staring at something past Fireheart, as though searching for something. Brackenpaw was still asleep in his den, having been worn out from a sparring session earlier that day. Whitestorm quickly fetched the tom and ushered him out of the camp before anyone could say anything.

"I'm sorry I woke you so abruptly, Brackenpaw," he meowed smoothly. _'I can't let him know what happened to Cinderpaw. Not just yet. I need to check something first.'_

Brackenpaw, oblivious to the danger his sister was in, followed his mentor out into the forest. "Where are we going?" Yawned the apprentice.

"I'm taking you to the Great Sycamore," Whitestorm explained. "I want you to explore that section of the forest, but I want you to stay well away from the Thunderpath."

Brackenpaw nodded, shaking to wake himself fully. When they arrived at the clearing, Brackenpaw was amazed by how much larger the Sycamore tree was to the Owl tree. "Now explore this area. I'll be back in a few moments. Tell me what you find."

Brackenpaw nodded and trotted away, nose low to the ground. Bile was growing in Whitestorm's throat at the thought of telling Brackenpaw what had happened. He knew he would need some time to spend with his sister.

_'I'd better check for ShadowClan.'_

There was a patch of blood at one section of the great, bitter smelling, solid river. It smelled of Cinderpaw, and he had to shrink into the gorse as a thin, two-pawed monster shrieked past with a never ending roar. When he was sure the way was clear, Whitestorm stepped out onto the path and quickly went about checking.

It was strangely quiet. Standing on the river frayed his nerves and he constantly glanced over his shoulders to check if anything was coming. Whitestorm checked thoroughly, making sure he padded as far along as he could around that patch of the path.

There was no ShadowClan scent.

_'So what happened?'_


	30. Never Agitate The Storm

Leafbare had arrived. There was a growing, slippery patch of snow covering the ground, but it wasn't dangerous enough to be worried about. In fact, Whitestorm was rather excited about the change in weather. As he padded out of the warrior's den and breathed in the frostbitten air, Mousefur let out a purr of amusement.

She stretched her legs and yawned. Whitestorm's thick paws sunk into the ground, and Mousefur, rather than make her own trail, followed in his wake. It was an old habit of hers, he'd observed, that she would count the steps and try to put her paws in each imprint. A bit of a game.

"It seems you will come in handy yet again, Whitestorm," the she-cat mused. "You're our best leafbare hunter, with that waterfall of thick white fur you call a pelt. You can stay out longer than the rest of us and still catch more!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mousefur," Whitestorm chuckled. "I just blend in better in leafbare. I stick out like a thorn in your paw any other time."

"We can lick up the snow from the ground for water," Tigerclaw meowed to the gathering of shivering cats around him. "So I'm focusing all of our efforts into border and hunting patrols. I want someone to go with Yellowfang to collect herbs as well, because she'll need them."

Longtail and Darkstripe broke off from the pack and headed for the gorse tunnel after Yellowfang. The snow would most likely destroy the herbs, so Yellowfang had to get to them before they dried up. It was the juices within that healed, but if they were sucked out of the plants, all they would have would be crispy, crunchy, hollow shells.

"Fireheart, I want you and Greystripe to go on a hunting patrol together. Take Sandstorm with you and head for Tallpines. The snow will be less over there." Tigerclaw decided. Greystripe wasn't around, Whitestorm realised, and he hadn't seen the grey warrior in the warrior's den.

"Whitestorm... Round up all of the apprentices and take them to the training hollow. Hold a session there and talk to them about fighting techniques in the snow. I trust you to handle that on your own?"

"Yes, Tigerclaw," he replied.

His aunt nodded and he padded away, heading for the apprentice's den. As he approached, however, his fur bristled and he caught the sound of familiar voices.

"Leave him alone, Greystripe!" Swiftpaw spat.

"He's my apprentice!" Snapped the warrior. "Just because Bluestar appointed Whitestorm in front of the whole Clan doesn't mean that's changed!"

Brackenpaw's voice was serious but quiet. "Whitestorm is my mentor, not you! You couldn't even focus properly to train me! Go away or-"

"Or what?" Sneered Greystripe. Whitestorm heard the sound of a tail thumping against the ground. "You'll tell Frostfur? Brackenpaw, I'm not going to tell you again. We're going to the training hollow!"

"Or what?" Brackenpaw's voice was challenging now. "You'll make me? Gonna claw me up or chew on my leg like you did Fireheart? What kind of a loyal ThunderClan warrior attacks his own Clan mate like that?"

"Are you calling me a traitor?" Greystripe bristled.

Whitestorm heaved himself into the den. "That's exactly what he's saying, Greystripe." The air was ripe with tension, but as he strode over to his kit and sat beside him, he relaxed slightly. "And last time I checked, this was the apprentice's den. You have no reason to be here."

Greystripe scoffed. "And you do? You're always sticking your nose into their business, Whitestorm. What are you? His father?"

_That_ hit a nerve. Whitestorm's eyes darkened and he showed his annoyance with a subconscious flick of his tail. The grey tom noticed.

"ThunderClan is my business, Greystripe. The training of all apprentices, if you haven't forgotten, is overseen by me by order of Bluestar. Why do you think I talk to all of the mentors and give them advice?"

"You certainly didn't talk to me," Greystripe spat.

"You were too busy going for walks or sleeping, either in your nest or on your paws." He pointed out cautiously. The last thing he wanted was a battle in the apprentice's den. They weren't alone, either. Swiftpaw was crouched in the corner of the den, listening with wide eyes.

Turning around to look over his kit, he murmured quietly, "Are you okay?"

Brackenpaw nodded determinedly, eyes narrowed.

Whitestorm turned back to Greystripe, who was crouched down on the ground. "Tigerclaw wants you for a hunting patrol with Fireheart and Sandstorm. You're already making them late as it is." He said. Greystripe refused to move. "Greystripe, _leave_. That's an order."

"Last time I checked, you weren't Clan leader or deputy."

Brackenpaw jumped to his paws. "Last time I checked, neither were you!" He snapped. Golden-brown tabby fur bristled with anger and the tom's tail lashed. "Whitestorm is a senior warrior. Did you forget that they have authority over the younger warriors?"

Whitestorm blinked in surprise at the tom. _'That's exactly right. Who told him that?'_

Greystripe dug his claws into the ground stubbornly. "I'm not taking orders from him! It's because of him that I don't have an apprentice!"

"Fine. Then perhaps I'll take up your insubordination with Bluestar." Whitestorm warned. "Because the last time I checked, she was our leader."

Greystripe rose to his feet. "You wouldn't dare!" He spat. The tom bared his fangs.

Whitestorm knew that position. Hackles raised, tail lifted, claws unsheathed and eyes locked with his own. Suddenly the den became a lot more dangerous as Whitestorm rose to his paws and his spinal fur lifted. He towered over Greystripe, staring down at the grey tom, who suddenly didn't feel so brave.

"Are you challenging me?"

A few heartbeats of silence followed. Greystripe's heart was pounding in his chest and his ears drawing back. Whitestorm unflinchingly stared him down with his honey-amber eyes blistering with a controlled, steady rage.

Brackenpaw had seen him fight. That had been a friendly match between cat and Clan leader – between family. It had all been in good fun, but now there was a different aura surrounding the massive white tom. This was no mentor defending his apprentice, but more like a father protecting his son. Whitestorm had whipped out moves that no cat had seen before, and that many cats would never even have thought of.

Greystripe held his ground for a few seconds more, then gulped and crouched submissively to the ground, staring at his paws. Whitestorm let out a furious growl, but let his fur lie flat once more. "What do you have to say to Brackenpaw?"

"Sorry," Greystripe meowed quietly.

"I don't want to catch you in here again, Greystripe. Now get out."

Greystripe backed out of the den and vanished into the gorse tunnel. Whitestorm felt the adrenaline settle, but he was still hyped up from the confrontation. Cinderpaw and Swiftpaw were staring at him in shock but Brackenpaw was looking at what seemed like awe and amazement.

"That was _awesome!_" Swiftpaw grinned.

Whitestorm huffed in embarrassment. "Well, now that I've sorted that out, I suppose we should be leaving now. I've been asked to take the apprentices to the training hollow – you included, Swiftpaw – so I can teach you to fight in the snow. Stretch your legs outside and meet me by the gorse tunnel."

Cinderpaw would never become a warrior. Fireheart had been devastated, hearing that his apprentice's injury had been too severe to heal. Well, it would heal, but she would never be able to move it in the same way again.

Frostfur had left her in Yellowfang's care as she stayed with Bluestar, though she had been shaken. Whitestorm felt his energy fade and his shoulders sagged slightly as he watched Greystripe and Fireheart argue briefly before sulking through the gorse tunnel.

_'This is a harsh leafbare.' _Whitestorm thought, shaking his head sadly. StarClan was there to guide them, but they had been so silent, it seemed. Clouds were covering the moon almost every night, dropping snow onto the soft forest floor. _'So many problems, I don't know where to start. Tigerclaw, Brokenstar, Cinderpaw, supposedly ShadowClan... Greystripe's still acting like a grouch with a rat infested nest and there's greencough in the camp.'_

Everything was piling up. It was going to be one of the harshest leafbares in several seasons. ThunderClan had to be ready.


End file.
